An Heir Apparent
by isabella2004
Summary: With the bank threatening to foreclose on her father's farm, Rebecca McKendrick returns to Colorado Springs from Boston to save the home she loves. But her actions lead to an unpredicted outcome involving the man threatening to take away her past...
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I always thought Preston got a bit of a hard time and having recently got season 4 on DVD I actually think he's rather misunderstood. So, here's a story about Colorado's favourite banker! I hope you'll read and review!**

**September 1870**

It had been so long since she had been in Colorado Springs that she wondered if she would recognise it when she saw it. Indeed, the journey there was altogether different. Eight years earlier, when she had left the town, it had been by rickety stagecoach. Now, she was arriving back on a train. With a wry smile, she wondered what her father would say if he were alive. He had never believed in the train coming to Colorado Springs, writing it off as a new-fangled invention that would never catch on. How surprised he would be to see his own daughter arriving back to town in one.

She lifted her book again and read another few pages before dropping it back onto her lap again. For some reason, she hadn't been able to concentrate since they had left Denver, preferring to gaze out at the lush fall scenery. The leaves on the trees were turning, the sun shone low and dazzling and the air had a cold tinge to it.

"Only in Colorado," she murmured to herself. As she rested her head back against the seat, she thought about the letter she had received a few weeks earlier in Boston and at how incensed and even frightened she had felt reading the words.

_Dear Miss McKendrick_

_It has come to our attention that the repayments on your father's loan have recently ceased. As you will be aware, your father took out a substantial loan with us a number of years ago to help with the maintenance of your family farm. The loan was due to be repaid at a monthly sum of one hundred and eighty-five dollars and, until three months ago, this repayment was being adequately met. Unfortunately, it appears that circumstances have since changed. You will understand that, as a business, we require to collect from our debtors. We therefore require immediate payment of all outstanding sums due on your father's loan along with the requisite interest. _

_Of course, should you wish to discuss this matter, you will be aware that we have recently opened a branch of the bank in Colorado Springs. Please do not hesitate to make an appointment at your earliest convenience._

_Kindest regards_

_Preston A. Lodge III_

_President, National Trust Bank_

She shook her head at the thought of it. In the forty years that he had been a farmer in Colorado Springs, Angus McKendrick had never once defaulted on a payment. She knew he would be turning in his grave if he knew what was happening now. She hadn't known that the loan wasn't being repaid and that thought alone made her angrier with herself. She had been away too long, had shunned the responsibilities which were now hers and had apparently left the family business in the hands of someone clearly incapable of looking after it.

After her father died, she had left the running of the farm in the capable hands, or so she thought, of Henry Elder. He had been her father's right hand man for many years and she had grown up calling him Uncle Henry. They had corresponded for some time after her father died, but his letters had stopped. She had obviously been too wrapped up with her life in Boston to realise that something was very wrong.

"Next stop Colorado Springs!"

The shouting of the guard brought her back to reality. She got up from her seat and lifting her bag, made her way towards the door. She wanted to see what had become of the town as she pulled into it. Pushing down the window, she stuck her head out into the cold breeze and, holding onto her hat, watched as the train station grew closer. She could hardly believe the transformation as the train pulled to a slow halt. People were hurrying about everywhere. It was almost as if it was a different town.

As she climbed down from the carriage and looked around, she suddenly caught sight of a familiar face dealing with some packages. "Horace! Horace Bing!" Horace looked up at the sound of his name and regarded her with some confusion. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"I'm sorry Miss…" Horace replied, stuttering for words, "have we been introduced?"

"You don't remember me?" she asked. He shook his head, "Bing, bing, bing goes the bell?"

Recognition suddenly dawned in his eyes, "Rebecca? Rebecca McKendrick!" He stepped forward and hugged her, "Why, you're all grown up! I haven't seen you since…since…"

"It's been a long time," Rebecca laughed, "eight years to be precise!"

"How old are you now?"

"Now, Horace, you know better than to ask a lady her age." She watch him redden, "but seeing as it's you…I'll be twenty five this winter."

"Gosh…" Horace admired her, "You sure got pretty too." It was Rebecca's turn to blush. "Oh!" He turned to look behind him. "This is my wife, Myra, and our daughter Samantha."

"Myra," Rebecca extended her hand, "it's so nice to meet you."

"And you," Myra replied. "You come a long way?"

"Boston."

"Oh…" Myra laughed, "Another one! We sure seem to attract people from Boston to this town!"

"Our local doctor, Doctor Mike, she's from Boston," Horace said.

"A lady doctor?" Rebecca raised her eyebrows, "that's very forward thinking for Colorado Springs."

"She's a great doctor," Myra enthused, "You'll really like her."

"I'm sure I will."

"Oh, and Preston," Horace added, "he's from Boston too."

"That wouldn't happen to be Preston A Lodge III, would it?" Rebecca asked. Horace nodded. "I thought as much. I'm afraid my visit here isn't exactly for pleasure." She sighed, "You'll be aware that my father died last year?"

"Yes," Horace nodded, "We were real sorry to hear it too. Your pa was a great man. He was always so kind to me."

"Thank you. It seems however that much of his kindness and trust was misplaced. The person I entrusted the farm to hasn't exactly been doing their best to keep it going."

Horace and Myra exchanged looks. "You mean Henry Elder?" the latter asked.

Rebecca nodded, "Do you know what's been happening?"

"He took off about three months ago," Horace said, "not a word to anyone."

"What about the farm?"

"'Fraid I don't know. No-one's been up that way as far as I know."

Rebecca sighed. "Well, the bank is threatening to foreclose. I have to go and speak with Mr Lodge about an extension."

"Good luck," Horace replied bitterly. Myra nudged him. "I'll…make sure your luggage is all set up on a wagon to take you out to the farm later."

"Thank you Horace," Rebecca patted his arm, "Can you direct me towards the bank?"

"You can't miss it," he replied, "just across from the clinic."

Rebecca made her excuses and started to walk from the station up towards the centre of town. As she did, she looked around in wonder at all the changes that had been made. There was so much new business, new life that she was beginning to wonder if it was the same place. As she neared the main square, she caught sight of the sign above what used to be Charlotte Cooper's boarding house.

"Michaela Quinn Medicine Woman," she murmured to herself. "Interesting." Then, she turned and found herself face to face with the bank, the large clock bored into the front wall informing her that it was after ten o'clock. She paused, unsure if she was ready for what would undoubtedly be a battle. Then she remembered precisely whose daughter she was so, holding her head high, she made her way inside.

Glancing around, she was surprised at how small it was, so different from the main headquarters of the bank in Boston. She had visited it a few times to deal with her savings and had always marvelled at its vastness. This was quite different and yet, so suited to a town such as Colorado Springs. The bank was empty except for a man sat at a desk in the back, looking through some paperwork. He appeared to be unaware of her presence until she coughed conspicuously. He looked up, got up from the desk and came forward.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, you probably can," Rebecca replied, "I'd like to speak with Mr Preston Lodge please."

"Well, you are indeed speaking with him," he replied with a smile, "is there something in particular I can help you with?"

Rebecca reached into her purse and took out the letter. "I'm assuming it was you who sent me this."

He took it from her and read it quickly, "Ah yes, Miss McKendrick. Won't you come through?" He gestured for her to come through and take a seat at his desk which she duly did. He sat down opposite her. "I'm sorry if the letter came as a surprise to you…"

"Yes, it did," she interrupted. "It also came as something of a disappointment."

"Disappointment?"

"My father lived in this town all his life. Banked with this bank all his life and never once did he miss a repayment on his loan."

"I can appreciate that, but you see…"

"My father passed away last year."

"I know," Preston said, "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"I'm not interested in your pity, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said, feeling renewed confidence with each word, "I'm more interested in what makes you think you can write me a letter like this after the loyal custom my family has provided your bank with. Not just here, but in Boston too."

"Is that where you're from?" Preston seized on the nugget of information. "I assure you that if you had been living in town, I would have noticed you."

Rebecca thought she might well bring back up her breakfast. "If you're trying to flatter me, Mr Lodge, it won't work. I may have travelled from Boston where I have been living for the last eight years, but I was born and bred right here in Colorado Springs. My family is well known here. I regret that I clearly haven't been kept fully informed of the circumstances surrounding my father's farm. I understand that the man I left in charge left town quite suddenly. He was in charge of everything, including the repayments of the loan. He was a loyal and trusted friend." Rebecca looked down, still somewhat unable to believe that Uncle Henry had let her down so badly. "At least I thought he was."

When she looked up again, she saw Preston looking at her sympathetically. "What is it you're asking me for?"

Rebecca looked him in the eye, "I can't afford to repay the full loan as you are requesting. Not right now. I have money tied up in the bank in Boston which is very difficult to access at short notice."

"So, you're looking for an extension on the loan?"

"Yes."

"Miss McKendrick…you'll be aware that it's not standard practice…"

"I appreciate that."

"We're a business here. We have to make money, otherwise what is the point? If your father's farm is failing…"

"I don't intend to let that happen," Rebecca said, her eyes dark with anger. "I'll run it myself if I have to." Preston started to laugh before he could seemingly stop himself. "I'm sorry, but what is so amusing?"

"I apologise," he said, "you may have been born here Miss McKendrick but you've clearly been educated to a standard far greater than that of running a farm."

"That farm was my home for many years. It was my father's home. I don't intend to just let it go to rack and ruin." Rebecca got to her feet, suddenly all too aware that she was close to tears. "Now, are you prepared to help me, or not?"

Preston stood up and surveyed her. "What are you offering?"

"Give me two months to get things back on track. Two months in which to get back up to date with the loan repayments."

"And if you can't?"

"Then you can have the farm and we'll part with no bad feelings." Rebecca held out her hand and realised it was shaking, "Do we have a deal?"

If he saw this, Preston chose to ignore it and shook her proffered hand, "All right. Two months. But that's it. There will be no further extensions."

"I understand," Rebecca replied, relief flooding through her at this temporary lifeline. "Thank you Mr Lodge."

"Please," he said, "call me Preston." Caught slightly unawares under his gaze, Rebecca felt herself redden. "May I call you Rebecca?"

She was about to say yes when something inside her made her stop. She barely knew this man. He was holding the keys to her future in his hands and yet wished to know her on a level that seemed inappropriately intimate. It wasn't the done thing. She drew herself up and fixed him with her most magnanimous look. "No Mr Lodge," she replied, "you may not."


	2. Chapter 2

Rebecca left the bank feeling elated. It had been easier than she had thought to persuade Preston to grant her extra time on the loan. Perhaps she had been mistaken about him. Now all she had to do was figure out how she was going to bring the farm back from the brink. As she stepped down onto the street, her elation slowly began to turn into panic. Two months…two months! How on earth was she going to turn the fortunes of the farm around in two months? It would be an impossible task. She should have asked for more time, she should have…her lack of knowledge about finances hit her squarely in the face. It was going to take a lot more than bravado and the knowledge that she was Angus McKendrick's daughter to turn this around.

As she started to walk back towards the station to pick up her luggage, she was so lost in thought that she wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into someone hurrying in the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at a man not much younger than herself. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No it was my fault," he replied, "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Rebecca smiled, "really."

He squinted at her, "Don't I know you?"

"Probably," she replied, "I'm from Colorado Springs originally." She glanced at the badge on his jacket, "Well, you're obviously the sheriff."

"Yes ma'am. Matthew Cooper."

Rebecca's eyes widened, "Charlotte's Matthew?"

"That's right."

"Oh my Lord you've grown so much!" she laughed, "the last time I saw you, you were a skinny, shy kid. Now look at you!

Light dawned in Matthew's eyes, "Rebecca McKendrick!"

"The very same!" Rebecca replied, allowing him to hug her. "It's so good to see so many old friends! I was half afraid you would all have fled to Denver."

"No way," Matthew replied, "Colorado Springs'll do me just fine."

"I was so sorry about your mother," Rebecca said, putting her hand on his arm. "That must have been so hard for you. And for Colleen and Brian."

Matthew looked away, "Well, you know what it's like."

"Yes, I'm afraid I do." She glanced behind her at the bank, "I've just met Mr Lodge."

"Preston? He was your first stop when you got back in town?"

"Out of necessity I'm afraid," she made a face, "He wanted full repayment of my father's loan or he was going to take the farm."

"You're kidding?" Matthew looked outraged.

"I wish I was," Rebecca replied, "thankfully I've managed to hold him off for two months to give me some time to get things sorted. I'm heading up to the farm now."

"Let me come with you," Matthew said hurriedly.

"Oh there's no need. I may have been away for eight years but I still remember how to drive a wagon!"

"I…still think I should come with you."

"Why?" Rebecca looked at him hard, "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing," Matthew replied, "but just…let me come with you."

Rebecca shrugged, "All right. It'll be nice to have some company on the drive." They made their way back through town to the station, chatting about old times and about how much the town had changed. When they reached the station, Horace came hurrying out of the office.

"Got your wagon for you Rebecca," he said, gesturing to where a wagon was standing waiting with her luggage on board.

"Thank you Horace," Rebecca said, "Matthew's going to come up to the farm with me."

"That's a good idea," Horace said. "I'm sure it's not as bad as they say."

Rebecca, who had been walking towards the wagon, stopped suddenly and turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Horace and Matthew exchanged looks. "Oh…nothing," the former replied, "it's just that…well…it's been a long time since you were up there…"

"Yes? And?"

"Well…"Horace stuttered, "…have a nice drive." With that, he dived back into the office.

Rebecca looked at Matthew who shrugged and then climbed into the wagon. "I'll drive," she said, grabbing the reins from him. "I'm going to have to be self-sufficient after all."

"It's all yours," Matthew said. Clicking her tongue, Rebecca moved the horse forward and they made their way away from the station and out into the outskirts of the town where the farm was located.

"So," she said, "how are you finding being Sheriff?"

"It's all right so far," Matthew replied. "Had to do some things I don't like, like hanging a man." Rebecca looked at him horrified, "I know. It was tough but…it's part of my job."

"Well, there's being Sheriff and then there's being a hangman."

"Yeah well, he deserved it. Raped a young girl and murdered an old man."

Rebecca shuddered, "Well, I'm glad that you were around to take care of business."

"Whole town wanted him lynched. It got done right though."

Rebecca grinned at him, "I'm proud of you, Matthew. I always knew you'd make something of yourself."

He blushed and looked away, "You know, I had the biggest crush on you when I was younger."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, I wasn't going to tell you," he said, "Besides, I was only twelve."

"With a glorious mop of blond hair if I recall correctly."

"You should see Brian!"

They laughed as Rebecca took the wagon round a corner and came face to face with the farm. Rebecca's laughter suddenly ceased. "Oh…my Lord…" She pushed the horse forward faster until they reached the front of the farm. "Oh my…" she sat and looked at it in horror. "Just…just look at it!"

The entire building looked as though it was about to fall down. Windows were broken, window frames cracked, slates missing from the roof, weeds growing all over the garden and surrounding land. The barns at the back of the property looked equally as empty and abandoned as the main house and the corral gate swung ominously in the autumn breeze.

"I'm sure it ain't as bad as it looked," Matthew said, jumping down.

"But it's…I mean it's…" Rebecca was lost for words. "What on earth happened here?" she looked at him. "Do you know what happened to Henry?"

"Not really. We hardly ever saw him in town and then one day, he was just gone."

Rebecca sighed, "Two months is never going to fix this! I dread to think what the place looks like inside."

"You got keys?" She nodded and stood up. As she did, he saw her wobble and sit back down again suddenly. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Rebecca said, "I just…felt a bit faint."

"No wonder," Matthew held out his hand and, when she had regained her balance, Rebecca stood up again and allowed him to help her down. Once on the ground, she leant back against the wagon. "You sure you're ok?"

"Yes," she said, waving him away. "Can you…can you check on the barns please? I'll go into the house."

"Sure," he said, casting her a final glance before hurrying around to the back of the property.

Rebecca let out a long breath and placed her hand on her chest. Her heart was racing and she counted slowly to ten, waiting for it to return to normal. She again cursed Henry, not only for leaving the farm in the state it was clearly in, but for also bringing on one of her turns. Reaching into her bag, she lifted out the set of keys and walked forwards to the front door. As it turned out, she didn't need them. The door swung easily open and a strong smell of damp hit her as she stepped inside. The interior, while instantly recognisable, was forlorn and shabby. The kitchen and living areas where she had spent many happy hours playing while her father worked outside were shadows of their former selves. As she walked slowly through the various rooms, she felt a profound sense of sadness and, indeed, anger. Anger not just at Henry, but at herself for staying away so long.

"Not much happening outside," Matthew said, coming in behind her.

"I should have come back," she murmured. "I shouldn't have stayed away."

"You can't think like that. You didn't know this was going to happen."

"What kind of daughter doesn't come home when her father's dying?" she turned to look at him. "I didn't even say a proper goodbye. Maybe if I'd been here I could have prevented this." She groaned. "Mr Lodge is no doubt _loving _the fact that I lowered myself to beg for two months grace. He probably knows _exactly _what sort of a state this place is in and is no doubt laughing himself silly at how stupid I am!"

Matthew didn't know what to say to that. "Well, you can't stay here."

"I have to," she replied, "I've nowhere else."

"There's the boarding house in town," he said, "it's nice. Real quiet." She didn't reply. "Look, why don't I take you back into town? We could have lunch at Grace's and you could meet Doctor Mike. She and Sully will know what to do about starting work on this place. I'm sure folks in town will help you get it back up and running."

"It doesn't look like I have much choice," she replied wearily, "does it?"

XXXX

"Little Rebecca McKendrick," Hank Lawson drawled a few hours later.

"You haven't changed a bit, Hank," Rebecca said.

"You certainly have," he remarked, looking her up and down. "Ya know, if ya can't git the farm back on track, there's always a job for ya at the saloon."

"I'll bear that in mind," she replied mildly. At the moment, being offered a position as a whore seemed far less worrying that the task she knew lay ahead.

"Fact is, I'm lookin' to expand," he said.

"Really?"

"Gonna build me a hotel. Best hotel in town." He grinned at her.

"Only hotel in town."

"Aw, Hank's been talkin' bout this for months," Loren Bray remarked from his seat next to Rebecca, "Fact is, I'll be dead before he gits anywhere close to buildin' it!"

"Have a little faith, Loren," Hank replied. "Ain't that right, Rev?"

"I suppose so," Rev Johnston said. "It's unfortunate, Rebecca, that your first few hours back in town haven't been particularly pleasant."

"Havin' to meet with Preston'd turn even the strongest stomach," Hank said.

"I was referring to the farm, Hank."

"Both experiences haven't exactly been pleasant," Rebecca replied, swirling the remains of her tea around her cup. "Not quite the homecoming I was hoping for."

"Doctor Mike!" Matthew shouting in her ear made her jump. "Over here!" Rebecca looked up and saw a woman making her way over to their table. "Doctor Mike, this is Rebecca McKendrick. She just got back into town today."

"Pleased to meet you," Michaela said, extending her hand. She paused. "Are you Angus McKendrick's daughter?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied.

"I treated your father shortly before he died," Michaela said, "he spoke very highly about you. He was very proud about your studying in Boston."

Rebecca made a face. "Perhaps if I have stayed in Colorado Springs…" she left the sentence hanging.

"You were studying English?" Michaela asked. Rebecca nodded. "You should speak to Dorothy Jennings. She's the editor of our local newspaper, The Gazette. Who knows, you might be able to do some writing."

"I think my time will be well spent fixing up the farm," Rebecca replied gloomily.

"I told you," Matthew said, "Folks'll help you out."

"I don't want charity, Matthew," she replied, "I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to prove something to myself."

"Like what?" Rev Johnston asked.

"I don't know. That I hadn't completed shunned my birthright? That I'm my father's daughter? I know it sounds silly…"

"Not at all," Michaela said, "it sounds very admirable."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied gratefully.

"Oh Lord," Rev Johnston said, "it's Preston. He's going to start going on about the loan for the church repairs again." He put his napkin down and tried to hurry away from the table, but Preston was too quick.

"Reverend," he said, touching his hat, "ladies. I was hoping to have a quick word with you, Reverend."

"Well, I was just on my way to…"

"This won't take long. It's about the church." Preston paused suddenly. "Miss McKendrick!" Rebecca looked up from where she had been trying to blend into the background. "It's good to see you getting yourself reacquainted with the locals." He smiled at her. "Have you been up to the farm yet?"

"Yes," she replied, through gritted teeth.

"Splendid. I think it's wonderful that you've come back to save your family home. Very admirable, I must say."

"I'm sure you must," she muttered under her breath. "Matthew," she said, "Why don't you show me round town? We passed through it very briefly earlier and I'd like to see it in more detail."

"Sure," he replied, "I'll introduce you to Dorothy."

"Sounds great," Rebecca stood up and all of a sudden, the familiar blackness washed over her and she had to sit back down again.

"Are you all right?" Michaela asked hurrying forward.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Rebecca said, taking a deep breath. When she looked up, she saw everyone looking at her with concern including, to her irritation, Preston. "I'm fine, honestly," she laughed, "It's just been a long day with certain unwelcome surprises. I just stood up too quickly."

"That happened earlier at the farm," Matthew said.

"If you come to the clinic I can have a proper look at you," Michaela said.

"No, no, there's no need." Rebecca got to her feet. "See? No problem." The others didn't look convinced.

"Perhaps you should take Michaela up on her offer," Preston said.

Rebecca turned to face him, "Perhaps you should stay out of matters that don't concern you." With that, she took Matthew's arm and walked away from the table back towards town.

"You should listen to Doctor Mike," Matthew said, "she's a good doctor…"

"Matthew," Rebecca said, "please. Just show me round town." He nodded and started to talk about how Michaela had established the clinic. To her shame, Rebecca found herself tuning out. The attacks were coming more frequently now. If she was being honest, she was starting to become very afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews!**

_My dear Preston,_

_Concern has driven me to write yet another letter to you, seeing as you haven't seen fit to respond to any of my others. I confess to being somewhat perplexed and confused as your lack of response. I am minded that perhaps you are not receiving my letters in that backwater of a town that you now apparently call home. I had indeed hoped that this infatuation with making a new life on the frontier was merely that, but your continued absence from Boston leads me to believe that it may be otherwise. Father spoke with your father only last week and relayed to me that you apparently have no intention of returning on a permanent basis. I want to assure you again that nothing has happened between myself and Charles O'Connor. I have made him no promises, but I now feel as though the promise I made to you carries no weight. You have disregarded my feelings and chosen a path which you know I would not follow. I am hurt by your lack of courage. If there is to be nothing further between us then I would appreciate having confirmation of this. I cannot wait forever, Preston, nor do I believe you expect me to._

_Please write back to me by return. I fear that we must resolve this situation as soon as possible. Regardless, I do hope that Colorado Springs is everything you wished it to be and that I see you back in Boston for Christmas._

_Yours _

_Helen._

Preston read the letter over three times before crumpling it up and tossing it across the bank where it landed on the floor near the door. She had a way of writing that inspired within him enough guilt to render him melancholic. He had never intended to hurt her, but a life married to her, living in Boston and working for his father had seemed so stifling. He could picture her face when he told her he was leaving, hear their last conversation…

_"When you first spoke of this, I thought it was merely a joke."_

_"What would make you think that?"_

_"Leaving Boston? Travelling across country to some God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere? Preston, you must see how ridiculous this all sounds!"_

_"I don't think it's ridiculous at all Helen."_

_"You would leave all this? Leave me?"_

_"Is that a polite way of saying that you won't come with me?"_

_"Are you asking me to?"_

_"If I did, would you come?"_

_"No."_

_"Then there seems little point in asking."_

It had been widely assumed that Preston A. Lodge III would marry Helen Draper. Both families had been pushing for it for years. It had seemed to Preston good fortune that he found the woman he was being shamelessly pushed towards so attractive. Honey blonde hair, large blue eyes, a willing mouth and with considerable money behind her. It had seemed too good to be true. In time, he had learned that it indeed was. Helen was a typical Boston woman. Raised properly, educated to an acceptable level, popular in society, in attendance at every important event…she would have made a good wife…a good hostess…

_"What more can you possibly want?"_ his father had raged when Preston had told him that his move to Colorado Springs would be permanent and made without Helen by his side. _"She'll stand by your side, support your business, bear you sons…she's perfect for you in every way!"_

_"Except in that I don't want her," _he had replied, _"We would never be happy."_

_"What's happiness got to do with it?" _his father had replied, giving Preston an insight into his parents' marriage that he had never glimpsed before.

"Indeed," he said to himself now, "what's happiness got to do with it?"

"I suppose it depends to what you're referring." Preston's head snapped up to see Rebecca standing inside the doorway. She was dressed in her Sunday best, a dark blue dress and bonnet, her hair neatly caught back with only a few loose tendrils escaping. "I'm sorry to interrupt your reverie."

"Not at all," he said, getting to his feet, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you waiting."

"I was hoping to speak with you about the farm," she said, "I tried to catch you after the service but you left so quickly after Horace handed you that letter…"

"Yes, I…" he watched as she placed the crumpled piece of paper on his desk and waited for her to ask about it. She didn't. Instead, she merely continued to watch him impassively. "Please," he gestured, "sit down."

"Thank you. I must confess to being surprised to see you here. It was my understanding that the bank was closed on Sundays."

"It is," he said, "I mean…it should be…I…" his mind was still partly on Boston. "Sometimes, I come in here to think."

"Really?" He nodded. "Do you always think out loud?"

He laughed awkwardly, "Sometimes. You mentioned the farm?" Keen to divert the conversation, he latched on to her reason for visiting.

"Yes," Rebecca replied, "I've been thinking over the last week and I really would feel more comfortable if we had an agreement in writing."

"An agreement?"

"In relation to the two months grace you gave me on the farm. I think it would be wise to have everything on paper, don't you? So that there can be no misunderstandings."

She was looking at him intently now and Preston felt the heat of her gaze boring into him. "Of course, of course. I can draft something up for your approval."

"That would be very kind, Mr Lodge, thank you." She stood up and Preston couldn't help admiring her figure as she did so. "Perhaps we can discuss it some more tomorrow."

He stood up and faced her, "Yes, if you come back tomorrow morning, I should be in a position to have something for you then."

"I appreciate it, thank you." She turned to leave and then turned back. "Forgive me for asking, but are you all right? You seem a little…"

"What?" Caught off guard, he snapped the word at her.

"My apologies," she turned to leave again, "it's none of my business."

"No…uh…wait…" Preston called her back. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I was a little distracted when you came in…letters from home…it's nothing to be concerned about."

Rebecca nodded. "I see. Seeing as we're apologising, I should apologise for my outburst at the café last week when you suggested I consult Doctor Quinn after my dizzy turn. I'm…not particularly used to having people take an interest in my health and I'm sorry for being rude to you."

"That really _was _none of my business," he replied. "but there was no intention on my part to offend."

"I appreciate that now," she replied. "Thank you for your concern."

"How _are _you feeling now?"

"Much better," she replied quickly, "I think it was a combination of fatigue and anxiety about seeing the farm again."

"Speaking of the farm," Preston came around from his side of the desk, suddenly business-like again, "I'd like to see the progress you've made. I understand it's coming on in leaps and bounds."

"Well…"

"If you would permit me, I'd like to come out tomorrow. I could…bring the agreement and we could discuss matters properly."

"All right," Rebecca agreed. "I suppose it's only fair that the bank know the state of repair of its investment."

"Splendid," Preston accompanied her to the door, "shall we say around eleven?"

"That would be fine, thank you." He saw her glance at the letter. "I hope that it wasn't bad news." Without waiting any longer, she turned and left the bank, quickly disappearing around a corner out of sight.

With a sigh, he returned to his desk and lifted the letter. Smoothing out the paper, he read Helen's words for a fourth time before unlocking the top drawer and sliding it in along with all the others. For some inexplicable reason, he wasn't quite ready to let go.

XXXX

"Did you speak to Preston?" Michaela asked Rebecca as they ate lunch at the café.

The younger woman nodded. "He agreed that we should have something in writing. He's bringing it out to the farm tomorrow. I appreciate your input. I would never have thought about having a written agreement. It shows you how little I know about…well…anything!"

Michaela laughed, "I think you're doing marvellously well. Taking on the farm all by yourself…"

"I don't really have much choice," Rebecca replied, "If I don't, no-one else will."

"Matthew told me your mother died in childbirth." Rebecca nodded. "That must have been hard for your father. And for you, growing up."

"My father loved me very much. We were practically inseparable when I was little," Rebecca smiled, "but I think a small part of him blamed me for the fact that my mother wasn't there."

"It was hardly your fault."

"I know that, and I'm sure he did too, but…" she sighed, "perhaps it's only natural. Anyway, I wanted for very little. I didn't miss having a mother because I didn't know what it was like to have one."

"You could have ended up with one like mine," Michaela quipped which started them both laughing.

At that moment, Matthew appeared, "Rebecca? Do you need some help at the farm today?"

"Matthew, it's Sunday!" she exclaimed, "it's the Lord's day of rest! I'm sure that you've got better things to do than mend fence posts and paint doors. You've worked hard for me all week!"

"I don't mind helping you out."

"I know you don't, and I appreciate it, but please…take a break."

"How about tomorrow?"

Rebecca glanced at Michaela who shrugged. "Tomorrow would be fine."

"All right," he turned to leave, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Both women watched him go, "I'm worried about him," Michaela said. "I don't quite know what to make of his behaviour since Ingrid died." She glanced at Rebecca, "He certainly seems to like helping you."

"Oh, Michaela, I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of him," Rebecca looked at her in horror, "I would never…"

"Of course not!" Michaela assured her, "In fact, you appear to be occupying his mind quite effectively." She smiled knowingly, "I believe that crush he had on you all those years ago is resurfacing."

Rebecca smiled, "I don't think you have anything to worry about there. He's probably only focusing on me because of Ingrid."

"What makes you think I'd be worried about it?"

"Well…I am an older woman after all." They both started laughing again. "You know, you're very lucky Michaela."

"I am?"

"Of course. You have a thriving medical practice, a beautiful home, a very good looking husband…" they laughed again, "I only hope I can emulate you."

"Well, once you're finished with the farm, you'll have the equivalent of the first two," Michaela pointed out. "All you'll need is…"

"A good-looking husband. Where in Colorado Springs am I going to find one of those?"

Michaela smiled, "There are a few unattached men in town. Loren…"

"Too old."

"Jake. He _is _mayor after all."

"Hmmm…

"Hank." Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "All right, not Hank. I know, if it all works out with the farm, you could marry Preston!"

Rebecca choked on the tea she had chosen that precise moment to drink and started coughing uncontrollably. Michaela rubbed her back until she managed to find her voice, "Preston?"

"He does own the bank and he's planning to build a hotel in town. Of course there is the small matter of knocking down the Kissing Tree and generally annoying most people in town."

"Indeed," Rebecca said, "perhaps one thing at a time." She looked back down at the remains of her lunch. "Well, I'm completely full. I couldn't eat another bite."

"Why don't we walk it off?" Michaela suggested.

"That sounds like a great idea." Rebecca stood up and immediately knew it was happening again. Her chest grew tight, her breathing quickened, the world seemed to spin around her. This time, however, she wasn't quick enough to get herself under control and she collapsed in a heap next to the table.

XXXX

Preston locked the door to the bank and started walking round to Grace's café where he had left his surrey. There was a distinct chill in the air, but he hardly felt it. He was still thinking about Helen and about home. He knew he had made the right decision, on both counts, yet it still gnawed at him. Here he was, living in a picture-perfect frontier town with a successful business and grand plans and yet it still wasn't enough.

As he reached the café, he noticed a small group of people congregated around one of the tables. At first, he thought they were merely chatting, but as he got closer, he realised that Rebecca was being helped up from the ground by Robert E and Michaela.

"I'm all right, really I am," he heard her say as he drew closer.

"Rebecca, clearly you're not," Michaela replied, "That's the third time this has happened since you've been here. Please, you must let me examine you."

Preston could see the fear and uncertainty in Rebecca's eyes. He was about to offer words of encouragement when he remembered her previous response. Despite her apology, he didn't want to risk her wrath again.

"Reckon Dr Mike's right," Robert E was saying. "You should get yourself checked out."

"All right," Rebecca conceded, her tone weary, "all right."

"Robert E, can you help me get her to the clinic?" Michaela asked.

"I'm fine," Rebecca insisted, "I can walk there myself." But she didn't pull away when Robert E put his arm around her waist and the three of them began walking away.

"Did she collapse again?" Preston asked Jake who was standing nearby.

"Down like a stone," he replied, "You ask me, something's seriously wrong with that girl."


	4. Chapter 4

**I realise I've got a little bit of the timing wrong here, in that I know Matthew didn't become Sheriff until 1871, nor was Johnny Reed hanged until then - sorry! Also, Preston's bank isn't really a branch of his fathers, but I think I have a way to get around that coming up in later chapters. And the suggestion about epilepsy...you were close but not quite:)**

"This really isn't necessary," Rebecca protested as Robert E and Michaela helped her into the clinic. "Really, I'm fine."

"Help her up onto the bed," Michaela instructed Robert E who touched his cap politely once he had done so and quietly left. "I'm just going to take a listen to your heart, Rebecca. If you wouldn't mind unbuttoning your dress." She turned to lift her stethoscope from the table.

Rebecca made no move to do so, "Michaela, I don't need an examination."

"Well, I'm a doctor and I say you do. People just don't faint like that for no good reason."

"No…I mean I don't need an examination because…because I already know what's wrong with me."

Michaela looked at her in surprise, "You do?"

Rebecca sighed heavily. This was the last thing she wanted to have to do, explain her frailties. She had tried so hard to forget about it, to push it to the back of her mind and deal with the attacks as and when they came. She had never wanted other people to know. "I have a problem with my heart," she began. "The doctors in Boston think I've had it since birth."

"You've seen doctors in Boston?" Rebecca nodded, "What did they conclude?"

"They couldn't be entirely sure but they believe that my heart suffers from a weakness caused by a build up of some substance in my…I think they said…arteries. It means that the blood flow to my heart is restricted and…well…that can cause the fainting spells as well as pain and shortness of breath that I experience from time to time. Apparently, there's a great deal of research been done at the moment but…"

"But they could offer you no cure." Rebecca shook her head. "And they believe you've had this since birth?"

"They said I may have inherited it from my mother."

"Your mother had the same symptoms?"

"Well, of course I don't know personally, but my father said that she frequently suffered from fainting spells and shortness of breath and pain. He believed that was what killed her in the end. Her heart wasn't strong enough to withstand the pregnancy and labour."

"Did they prescribe anything for you?" Michaela asked, sitting down at her desk.

"I take digitalis as and when it's required. I've taken it after each of my attacks this week."

"Do you usually have such frequent attacks?"

Rebecca looked down at the ground, "No. I thought it was maybe just the stress of coming back here and all the work with the farm…"

"Well that can't be helping," Michaela interrupted, "if stress and anxiety are things that can exacerbate the condition…"

"Everyone gets stressed and anxious from time to time," Rebecca said, "it's impossible to prevent it. I just have to learn to…to manage my condition and…take the proper precautions."

Michaela looked at her, "Such as?"

"As you say, trying to reduce my stress and anxiety would be a start. Once the farm is back on its feet, I'll be able to relax a little more. And as for the future…" she broke off, thinking about the promise she had made to herself and yet had been so quick to forget when she had returned to town, had allowed herself to imagine having a normal life. "I don't want to end up like my mother," she looked at her friend, "she was my age now when she died. I can't risk ever becoming pregnant which means…well…I really can't risk ever falling in love with anybody."

"Rebecca…"

"When we were talking at the café about which eligible young man I could marry in Colorado Springs? In that brief moment, I allowed myself to think it was possible. But now…"

"There's no reason why you couldn't have a normal, married life," Michaela said, "new treatments for conditions are being developed all the time. I can wire some doctor colleagues in Boston and find out about the new research you mentioned…"

"And in the meantime?" Rebecca looked at her, "I don't even know if I'll still be here in a year's time, Michaela. The next attack I have could kill me. What man would want to take that on?" She stood up and straightened her dress. "So you won't have to worry about Matthew. In fact, you won't have to worry about any of the men in this town." With that, she opened the door of the clinic and hurried out.

XXXX

The following morning, Rebecca slept late. She didn't intend to, but after her conversation with Michaela at the clinic she had felt physically and emotionally drained. Returning to the farm, she had intended to rest, but as she looked around the property slowly being brought back to life, anger had overtaken her and she had viciously began chopping wood for the fire. She didn't realise how much time had passed until the sky began to grow dark and she realised she was freezing. She had treated herself to a hot bath and then fallen into bed. Lying in the dark, she had listened to the beat of her heart and cursed it for letting her down so badly.

When she woke, it was after nine-thirty and, realising that Preston would be at the farm in under an hour and a half, leapt out of bed to make sure it looked as presentable as possible. She had swept and dusted the interior, rearranged the furniture at least three times, lit the fire and put some tea on to warm. Then she had wrapped her shawl around her and gone outside to ensure that everything looked as it should. The new fence at the corral looked perfect as did the exterior of the house which Matthew had painted. There was a new door on the barn which she had begun painting on Saturday but had given up due to the rain. It wasn't completely finished, but it was getting there.

At precisely eleven o'clock, just as she had finished putting some fresh flowers at the kitchen window, she heard the sound of horses hooves and looked out to see Preston riding up towards the house. Suddenly feeling very nervous, she took off her apron and opened the front door.

"Miss McKendrick," he greeted her, touching his hat.

"Mr Lodge," she replied, "exactly on time."

"I'm rather a stickler for punctuality," he replied, "my own and others." He stepped forward to her, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, wishing to gloss over the scene at the café.

"Apparently you took quite a tumble yesterday."

"Yes, but I'm fine now," she replied firmly.

Preston appeared to understand the meaning of her tone, "I'm glad. Well, I must say that the place is looking decidedly improved."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied with a smile.

"Much better than the last time I was here."

"The last time?"

"I rode up here a few months ago after the repayments stopped. The place was in a terrible state. But you appear to have rejuvenated it."

She wasn't entirely thrilled by the prospect that he had been prowling around the property, but she chose to ignore this and accept the compliment. "Thank you. It's not quite finished yet, but I still have seven weeks to go."

"Exactly," he agreed, smiling at her, "I have the agreement we discussed right here." He patted his pocket, "May I request a tour first?"

"Of course." Rebecca showed him around the outside of the farm, pointing out the various improvements that had been made. She took him into the corral and then into the barn. "Once the work has been done, I can concentrate on acquiring animals and re-establishing my father's business contacts."

"It will take some doing."

"I know that, but I'm not afraid of hard work."

He looked at her, "I can see that."

She met his gaze for a moment before looking away, "Would you like to see inside the house? I took the liberty of making some tea."

"That would be lovely, thank you." He followed her back inside the house. "What a charming entrance way," he observed. "Indeed, the whole place is charming." She led him into the kitchen where she busied herself making the tea. "It must bring back happy memories being back here."

"Of course," she replied.

"Do you regret staying away so long?"

Rebecca paused for a brief moment, guilt flooding through her again, "Yes. But at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing." She turned and passed him a cup.

"And now you think it was the wrong thing?"

"If I had been here, all this would never have happened. But then, I don't believe my education in Boston was wasted."

"Of course not," Preston replied, "Rather unusual though. A farmer's daughter from Colorado Springs attending school back east."

Rebecca bristled slightly at the implication that she wasn't good enough to have done so. "My mother was originally from Boston. She moved out here when she married my father. He said it was always her wish that I be educated there."

"Really? Your mother's family name?"

"Spencer."

"I know the Spencers'" Preston said, "Jewellery, isn't it?"

"Yes," Rebecca smiled, "my grandfather was one of the city's most influential jewellers."

"Barton Spencer."

"That's correct."

"He designed my mother's engagement ring."

"Really?"

Preston nodded, "It's a beautiful ring. Two cut diamonds in a truly unique setting." He looked at her, "I had no idea you were his granddaughter."

"You mean you find it hard to believe," she replied with a smile.

"Not at all," he assured her, "I had heard that Barton's daughter had left town to marry a farmer. I just hadn't put two and two together. It must have been like a homecoming for you to return to Boston."

Rebecca's smile slipped at the memory. "Not really. My grandfather died shortly after my parents got married. His estate was shared between my mother and her sister. After my mother died, the money passed to my father and he used it to pay for my education. I was so excited at the prospect of seeing the city, of visiting museums and theatres. Unfortunately the reality was less exciting."

"How so?"

"People made fun of me because of my accent and my clothes. When they would talk about places they had been and things they had seen, my biggest contribution was a monthly trek to Soda Springs to the cattle auction." Preston laughed. "I felt so lonely and unhappy and I was going to come back home, but then I received a letter from my father telling me how proud he was, and how proud my mother would be, that I couldn't leave. So…I bought nice dresses, I took elocution lessons and slowly…I left Colorado Springs behind. Too far behind," she added.

"You did what you had to do to fit in. No-one could blame you for that."

"My father was dying and I didn't even bother to come home," she looked up at him, her eyes shining, "they can blame me for that. Anyway," she said, coughing to cover her embarrassment, "you said that you had brought the agreement."

"Yes, yes of course," Preston reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I'm sure you'll be in agreement with its terms."

Rebecca took it from him, opened it and started reading. It all appeared to be in order, the time scale, the monthly repayments, the overall total figure…At this, she paused, "Are you sure this is right?"

Preston looked at her, "Am I sure what's right?"

"This overall total figure," she looked up at him, "it can't be right, surely."

"I've calculated what's due to the bank with the requisite interest," he explained, "I can assure you that it's accurate."

"Interest?" Rebecca looked at him.

"Yes." She felt her stomach drop. In all her own calculations she had managed to omit one thing. Interest. With it added on, it took the overall total repayment figure to several hundred dollars more than she had anticipated. "You do agree with the figure," Preston asked, "don't you?"

"Well it's…" she paused, "it's a little higher than I thought."

"You'll see that I've provided a breakdown of the figures on the back…"

"Yes I can see that."

"It really is the best offer I can give you."

"I'm sure it is." She stood up, "Well, I shall just have to wire the bank in Boston to send me more money.

"Miss McKendrick," Preston stood up also, "I can assure you…"

"You don't have to say any more Mr Lodge," she replied, "I understand that this is a business agreement which I will honour. Do you happen to have a pencil?" He produced one from his pocket and she signed the document quickly. "You'll have your money by the agreed date." She held the paper out to him.

Preston paused before taking it from her, "I admire you, Miss McKendrick, I really do."

"For what?"

"For taking on such a challenge, especially in light of your…other difficulties."

"I don't have…"

"But I would hate to see you make yourself unwell…out of guilt." He looked at her meaningfully.

Rebecca glared at him, "Why I have chosen to do this is none of your concern. My reasons are my own and I would thank you not to comment so freely on them. Perhaps it was wrong of me to divulge so much about my past to a man I barely know and one who could very well take all of this away form me! And I am not_ unwell_, as you put it."

Preston moved to the door, "My apologies once again Miss McKendrick if I have offended you. Perhaps it may be better for me to allow you to progress with your repairs to the farm without further involving myself unless and until it is required."

Rebecca felt instantly shamed by her overreaction. She was angry with herself, not with him. "It's not…I mean…I don't…"

"Good day, Miss McKendrick," Preston touched his hat and then swung himself onto his horse. "Thank you for the tea." With that, he turned and started making his way back towards town.

Rebecca sighed and leant her head against the doorframe. "You're very welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you everyone for reviewing so far. I hope you're continuing to enjoy the story!**

"You gonna need any more paint?"

Rebecca looked up from her purse. "Why?"

"I'm just wonderin'," Loren replied, "Fact is, if you are, I'm gonna have to send to Denver for more supplies. You've practically taken my whole supply doin' up the farm."

It was the following afternoon, almost three o'clock and the afternoon sun was glowing warmly outside. "No, I think I've got enough to finish," Rebecca replied. "It's amazing how much better a place looks even with just a new coat of paint." She handed him some money, "That should go some way towards my bill."

Loren took the notes from her, "Don't cover it all."

"I know that. But it helps, surely?"

"I s'pose," he replied.

"Loren, once the farm is back up and running…"

"I know, you'll pay it all off." He made a face at her. "Fact is, I'm gettin' too soft in my old age."

"Thanks Loren," Rebecca grinned at him, lifted the items she had purchased and made her way out of the store, bumping into someone as she did so. Her basket went flying and the apples she had purchased flew out. She crouched down on the ground to pick them up and as a couple rolled towards the steps of the store and were about to fall into the dirt, the person she had bumped into retrieved them for her. "Thank you," she said, straightening up and coming face to face with Preston. Guilt at the way she had spoken to him the previous morning hit her hard and she fought for words, "Oh…I…"

He didn't, however, give her much of an opportunity. "My apologies, Miss McKendrick. Good day." With that, he touched his hat and continued on his way to the bank.

"Damn it," Rebecca swore softly.

"You ok Rebecca?" She turned around to see Brian standing behind her.

She glanced back to see Preston going into the bank. "Sure, Brian, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Great. Actually, I was wonderin' if I could use you for my school paper."

"School paper?"

"Yeah. We're supposed to write an essay about someone we admire. I thought I could write bout you comin' back to fix up the farm. Bout how you've taken it on after your Pa died and all."

Rebecca was touched at the suggestion, "That's really sweet Brian, but…"

He looked a little downcast. "I mean, if you're too busy…"

"No, no," she replied hurriedly, "it's not that. It's just that I would have thought you'd want to do it about someone more like…well…like Doctor Mike. She must have done many more admirable things than I have."

Brian shook his head, "Nah, I've done her before. I wanna do it bout you. If you don't mind?"

Rebecca smiled, "Of course I don't mind. In fact, why don't you come out to the farm with me right now? You can get a first hand look at the progress."

"I wish I could, but I can't," he replied, "I gotta do chores for Ma this afternoon."

"Oh well, another time then."

"Why don't you come over to the homestead for supper?" he asked, "I could interview you then?"

"Well…don't you want to ask your Ma first?" In truth, Rebecca was slightly concerned about facing Michaela again after their discussion in the clinic on Sunday.

"She won't mind. You could come over about six?"

"All right," Rebecca relented, "I'll see you at six."

"Great!" Brian enthused, "See you tonight!"

Rebecca watched as he hurried over to the clinic, then, she headed back to where she had left her wagon to drop off her purchases before making her way down to the telegraph office. As she passed the bank, she glanced in the door, but there was no sign of Preston. At the station, Horace was busy dealing with an incoming train so she waited, sitting in the afternoon sunshine, warming her face until he was ready.

"What do you need, Rebecca?" He asked, coming over to her.

"I have a list here…" she said, reaching into her purse, "of business contacts my father had. I found it in his desk, one of the few things in the house that hadn't been ruined. I was hoping you could send these gentlemen telegrams and see if they'd be willing to continue doing business with the farm now that I'm in charge."

"You think they would?" Horace asked doubtfully.

"And why wouldn't they?" she demanded.

"Oh, no reason. I just thought that…"

"Because I'm a woman?" she glared at him. "You think I'm not as capable as my father?"

"Of course not! I…I didn't mean…"

"I know, I know," she replied with a sigh, "you're probably right, but…I need to try. I can't run a farm without any business. I also need to try and purchase some cattle. I've put down the name of the man my father used to buy from. Will you send the telegrams for me?"

"Sure, Rebecca." Horace took the list from her. "And I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything back." He turned and went back into the telegraph office.

"I reckon yer real brave." Rebecca turned to see Myra standing behind her.

"Oh Myra," Rebecca said, "I didn't see you there. I was just being insufferable hostile towards your poor husband!"

"Takin' on the farm by yerself and all," Myra continued as if she hadn't heard. "I could never do anythin' like that."

"Course you could," Rebecca replied, "if you want something badly enough you can make it happen." She reached down and tickled Samantha who was lying in the pram. The little girl giggled happily and Rebecca couldn't help feeling a stab in her heart knowing that motherhood was something she would never experience for herself.

"Preston's offered me a job at the bank," Myra continued. "I ain't never had a proper job. Unless you count workin' for Hank which I don't. And workin' here ain't the same as havin' my own job…"

"That's wonderful," Rebecca said, straightening up, "it's a great opportunity for you."

"I ain't sure I'm gonna take it."

"Why not?"

"Well…" she glanced at the hatch, but Horace was out of earshot, "Horace ain't too happy bout it. He don't like the thought of me workin' when I've got Samantha."

"There's no law that says a mother can't work," Rebecca replied.

"He said I could use the back room as a crèche too. Preston that is. I could have Samantha with me and still do the job…"

"You don't have to convince me," Rebecca laughed, "sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."

"Would you take it? If he offered it to you?"

"Me? Working in a bank?" Rebecca shook her head, "I wouldn't have a clue where to start. I can barely handle my own money let alone anyone else's. Besides…" She looked away.

"Besides what?" Myra asked.

"Well…Mr Lodge and I sort of got off on the wrong foot."

"Bout what?"

"Let's just say that he has his business and I have mine and leave it at that," Rebecca said, "Anyway, I guess I should get back up to the farm before it gets dark. You'd better take that job, you hear me?" Myra nodded. Rebecca turned to walk back towards her wagon when she was approached by a petite young woman who appeared to have just alighted from the train.

"Excuse me," the woman said, "I was hoping you might be able to help me."

"If I can," Rebecca replied.

"I'm looking for Preston Lodge."

"Oh, well, you'll find him over at the bank just further up the street there," Rebecca pointed. "Did you just come in on the train?"

The woman nodded, "All the way from Boston. Lord, what a trip!"

"I lived in Boston myself for quite some time," Rebecca said, holding out her hand, "Rebecca McKendrick."

The woman shook it gently, "Helen Draper."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." The woman looked around, "would you happen to know if there is a hotel in town?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, not yet. Mr Lodge is planning to build one, so I understand."

"Really?" Helen looked at her in surprise.

"Oh, it's nowhere near ready," Rebecca said, "Still at the planning stage I believe. But there is a very comfortable boarding house not far from the bank."

"Would you mind showing me?"

Rebecca would have preferred to get back to the farm, but good manners prevented her from saying so. "Of course not. It's just up here. Don't worry," she said as Helen cast a doubtful look at her bags, "They will be fine here for now." She led Helen out of the station and they began walking slowly up the street.

"Your town is very…quaint," Helen said, glancing around as she walked, "I wasn't quite sure what I imagined it to be like."

"It's very different from Boston," Rebecca agreed, "but it's home."

"You live here?"

"Yes, I own a farm on the outskirts of town."

"A farm?" Helen looked at her.

"It was my father's," Rebecca explained. "After he died it was left to me. I recently returned from Boston to manage it."

"I can't imagine living here," Helen said, "I can't imagine Preston living here either."

"Do you know Mr Lodge well?"

"I should hope so," Helen laughed, "I'm his fiancée."

"Really?" Rebecca looked at her sideways, "I wasn't aware…"

"Well, why should you be?" Helen replied, "Why should anyone?" Her expression was angry, but in a few seconds it had cleared and she smiled. Rebecca recognised the change. It was something all well-bred young ladies were taught and one thing she had picked up in Boston: a lady should never show displeasure. It was not a rule Rebecca adhered to.

"Well, here we are," Rebecca pointed at the bank, "Mr Lodge should be about ready to close up for the day so you've picked the perfect time."

"Thank you," Helen replied, examining the building with a critical eye.

"And the boarding house is right over there," Rebecca pointed again. "It's basic, but more than adequate."

"I shan't be staying long," Helen said, a determined look in her eye, "So it will do fine. Thank you," she smiled graciously again, "I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome."

"I do hope to see you again. It's nice to know that not all of my preconceptions about this town were correct."

"I'm sure you shall," Rebecca replied, not wanting to enquire as to what those preconceptions might have been, and then watched as Helen made her way to the door of the bank. Turning, she began walking back towards her wagon thinking to herself that wonders would never cease.

XXXX

Preston had just finished putting the day's takings into the safe when he heard a cough behind him and, turning, saw to his utter disbelief that Helen was standing in the doorway of his bank.

"Don't look so agog," she said tartly.

"Helen…I…" he was lost for words, "What…what…?"

"Am I doing here? Well," Helen stepped inside and closed the door behind her, "Seeing as you refuse to answer my letters, I felt I should come here in person and see what you had to say for yourself."

"Say for myself?"

"Preston, when you left Boston, I believed you had every intention of returning. That this idea of yours was mere fantasy. Now I hear that not only have you opened a bank but you're also planning to open a hotel?"

"Who told you that?"

"Some woman I met at the train station and who kindly directed me here. Rebecca…something…" Helen waved her hand dismissively.

Preston latched onto this. "Rebecca McKendrick?"

"The point is…" Helen glared at him, "I wasn't told of these plans by you! I wasn't told that your aim was to stay here permanently! Preston…" she stepped forward, "I thought you cared about me."

Preston looked into her large blue eyes and sighed. She was beautiful, so very beautiful. Any man would be proud to have her by his side. But even now, looking at her, he could see there was nothing beyond that. No depth. No soul. No passion… "I never meant to hurt you…" he began.

"Of course you didn't," Helen replied, "the great Preston A. Lodge III would never _intentionally _hurt anyone, would he?" She glared at him again, "People are talking about me, you know."

"What people?"

"People! People that matter! They're all saying that you have dropped me for a life on the frontier. I will not be made a fool of, Preston. I will not have influential people in Bostonian society talking about me behind my back!"

"Well you don't seem too concerned, my dear, seeing as you appear to have struck up a very amiable relationship with Charles O'Connor!" Preston went for the jugular.

"I told you in my letter that there is nothing between Charles and myself except a plutonic friendship. Not that I don't think for one minute that he wouldn't like more."

"Then perhaps you should give him more."

Helen reddened, "I beg your pardon?"

"Helen…" he softened his tone, "there's no future for us. My plans are here. You would never be happy in Colorado Springs, I know that. Perhaps we should release each other from any obligations we fear we may be under and move on."

Helen's eyes narrowed, "There's someone else, isn't there?"

Preston sighed in frustration, "there's no-one else."

"You've got some country girl on the side, haven't you?" She was trembling now with anger, "You've been stringing me along the whole time…making me think that you would come home when all along…"

"There is no-one else!" he thundered at her, "Although by God I'm now wishing that there was! Anything to get me out of this…this _disaster_ in the making! We would never have been happy Helen, you must see that!"

"That doesn't matter, Preston. Two people joined in marriage can work at being happy."

Preston looked at her in disbelief. She really would rather marry for position and public appearance than for important things like happiness and love. He knew then he had made the right decision. "I'm sorry Helen. But there can never be anything more between us."

"You can stop loving me? Just like that?" She looked searchingly at him.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "I did a long time ago."

For a moment, they stood looking at each other, knowing it was the end. "Well…"Helen said finally, "well…"

"Let me pay your fare back to Boston," Preston said, eager to make something up to her, knowing that he bore the greater blame.

"There's no need," Helen replied, "I purchased a return ticket. In fact, I purchased two hoping that I could convince you to come back with me." She coughed. "The next train back isn't until Wednesday. That…Rebecca woman was kind enough to indicate that there is a boarding house in town. I can stay there for two nights and return to the city on Wednesday."

"Allow me to bring your bags up from the station," he offered, "it is the least I can do if nothing else."

Helen looked at him and he saw the tears in her eyes, "Yes, Preston. It is the least you can do." With that, she swept out of the bank and he watched as she made her way over to the boarding house, her back perfectly straight and proud, although he knew she had never had to rent a room in her life before. As he stepped out onto the bank's stoop, he saw Rebecca approaching in her wagon. He saw her glance from him to Helen and back again.

"Congratulations," she said as she drew closer to him.

"On what?" he replied, confused.

"Your engagement. Miss Draper told me…"

"Yes well…" he cut her off, "perhaps you should stay out of my business, Miss McKendrick, as I have been requested to stay out of yours."

Rebecca's smile dropped and her face hardened. "Yes Mr Lodge, perhaps I should." With that, she slapped the reins and moved quickly past him.


	6. Chapter 6

At six o'clock on the dot, Rebecca rode her horse up towards Michaela and Sully's homestead and pulled to a halt at the front door. As she did so, it opened and Brian appeared.

"Hi Rebecca!" he called as she dismounted.

"Evening Brian," she replied, tying her horse onto the fencepost. "Your Ma said it was ok for me to be here?"

"Sure," he replied.

"Well, why don't you give her this? I made it this afternoon." She handed him a pie, one of the first she had attempted to make at the farm since she had managed to get the kitchen into some form of working order again. "I hope it tastes all right." Brian hurried inside but Rebecca turned on the steps to look out across the countryside. The sun was just going down, casting a rosy glow over the scene.

"Rebecca?" She turned to see Michaela in the doorway.

"Oh, Michaela. Sorry," she replied. "I was just admiring your view."

"It's equally beautiful from the farm," Michaela observed.

"Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to come for dinner. I did wonder when Brian asked me…"

"Brian has a habit of doing that," Michaela laughed, "but it's no trouble. How are you feeling?" she ventured slowly.

"I'm fine," Rebecca replied, eager to get this part of the conversation over and done with. "I'm sorry I was abrupt in the clinic, but my health…well…it's not really something I like to talk about. I've dealt with it myself for years and I suppose…" she sighed, "well, I suppose I'm not used to other people caring."

"I understand," Michaela said, "but I'm always here if you want to talk."

"Thank you."

"Come inside, it's getting chilly."

Rebecca followed her into the warmth and looked around in amazement, "What a beautiful home!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe Sully built this all by himself!"

"He is rather talented in that department," Michaela conceded. "He should be back from the reservation soon, so you can compliment him yourself."

"I will," Rebecca replied as Colleen came down the stairs to greet her. "Something smells wonderful."

"I made roast chicken," Colleen explained.

"Colleen's the chef in our family," Michaela explained.

"But you're gettin' better all the time," Colleen encouraged her.

"I can't cook either," Rebecca admitted, "You might want to test that pie before serving it up."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely." At that moment, the door opened and Sully appeared. "Sully!" Michaela hurried over to greet him and Rebecca watched with a slight stab of envy as he kissed her gently.

"Evenin' all," he said when they broke apart, "Rebecca."

"Hi Sully," she greeted him, "I was just saying to Michaela how talented you are for building the homestead. It really is beautiful."

"Thanks," he replied, "how's things up at the farm?"

"Fine," she replied, "I'm almost finished the painting and the other exterior work. I couldn't have done it without Matthew though," she conceded, "he's been really wonderful."

"I'm sorry I ain't been able to help you out more," Sully said, "but with the reservation…"

"I wasn't expecting it, Sully, don't apologise," Rebecca reassured him. "If anything, I've wanted to do most of it on my own to prove that I can." They took their seats at the table as Michaela began to serve the chicken. "The last thing I want is to have to hand everything over to Mr Lodge at the end of next month."

"Michaela said you got an agreement with him in writin'?"

Rebecca nodded, "Two months for me to repay everything. He came by with it yesterday for me to sign…"

"Something wrong?" Michaela asked, seeing her look slightly downcast.

"I had forgotten to add on the interest payments," Rebecca replied, "it takes the overall amount to much more than I had originally thought."

"So, if you don't pay next month," Brian said, "you gotta give Mr Lodge the farm?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But you'll have the money, won't ya?"

"I hope so. I've wired the bank in Boston to send me more of my savings, but it's all about re-establishing the business contacts that Henry let go and putting the farm back on the map," Rebecca passed the potatoes to Sully. "I just hope I can do it all in time."

"You trust Preston to stick to his side of the bargain?" Sully asked.

Rebecca looked at him, "Well…we have an agreement in writing…"

"That don't mean nothin'. Not as far as Preston's concerned."

"Sully…" Michaela said warningly.

"No, it's alright Michaela," Rebecca said, "I'd appreciate your thoughts, Sully."

"I just figure that if Preston can see a way to pulling the farm out from under your feet, he will. He's ruthless, and he doesn't care how he goes about getting what he wants. Plenty of folks in this town baring a grudge already."

"I know," Rebecca said, "Michaela told me about the Kissing Tree."

"It ain't just the tree."

"Sully, I don't think we should be worrying Rebecca," Michaela said, "besides, I have every confidence that the farm is going to be back up and running the way it used to be in no time."

Rebecca smiled, "Thank you," but inside, she couldn't help beginning to feel worried. She had always assumed that when it came to business, Preston would be honourable. Now, she was concerned that he may renege on the bargain. "I met his fiancée today."

"Whose fiancée?" Michaela asked.

"Mr Lodge's."

Michaela and Sully exchanged looks. "Preston's got a fiancée?" the latter asked.

Rebecca nodded. "Her name's Helen Draper. She came off the train from Boston this afternoon. Although I have to say, he didn't look too happy when I attempted to congratulate him."

"Oh well," Michaela said with a smile, "We'll have to take him off the list then."

"What list?" Brian asked.

"Nothing you need worry about, Brian," Rebecca said, "I can't wait to hear what questions you have for me."

After dinner, Colleen and Michaela washed up while Brian asked Rebecca his questions for the paper. She answered them as best she could, joining in with his enthusiasm, but talking about the farm made her feel quite suddenly downcast about the whole thing.

"Do you miss your Pa?" Brian asked quite suddenly.

Rebecca was taken momentarily aback, "Well…yes I do…"

"It must be strange at the farm without him."

"I suppose it is," she replied, "although it had been some time since I had been back there when he was alive…"she trailed off, her mind casting back to the last time she had been there.

_"Yer goin' back to Boston then?"_

_"Pa, you're the one who sent me there in the first place."_

_"I know, and I'm proud, but…"_

_"But what?"_

_"I miss havin' ya here Becky. Place ain't the same now you and yer Ma have both gone…"_

"Rebecca?" She looked up to see Michaela watching her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied, "yes I'm fine. I'm sorry, I was miles away. Do you have any other questions, Brian?"

"No," he replied, "I reckon that'll do."

"Well if you think of any more, be sure and let me know." Rebecca stood up. "Michaela, Sully, thank you for your hospitality, but I should be getting back to the farm before it gets too late."

"Of course," Michaela said, "thank you for coming. And thank you for the pie. It was delicious."

"You won't be saying that when you're sick tomorrow," Rebecca quipped.

"You want me to ride back with you?" Sully offered.

"No, Sully, thank you. That's very thoughtful, but I'll manage." She glanced around the homestead again, "It really is a beautiful home." With that, she kissed both Michaela and Sully on the cheeks and then stepped out into the chilly night air.

"Nights are drawin' in," Sully observed. "Winter's comin'."

"And with it my deadline," Rebecca said, climbing onto her horse.

"You'll make it," Michaela said supportively.

"I hope so," Rebecca replied, "Good night." She turned her horse and started trotting away from the homestead to take the road back to the farm. It was dark, but the moon was full and it lit her path quite adequately. As she rode, she thought about what Sully had said. Perhaps she should pay Preston something now, to make sure he knew that she was going to make good on her word.

The wind was picking up now and growing colder. Rebecca pulled her shawl tighter around her body but as she urged the horse on, she felt the familiar tightening in her chest and the landscape in front of her started to blur.

"No," she whispered to herself, "not here…" She urged the horse on faster into a canter, but as she did so, she felt her head began to swim and her chest constrict even more. She could barely see straight in front of her and she blindly directed the horse back along the trail she thought she knew so well. She knew there was a bend coming up ahead, but it didn't take long to realise that she was taking it too fast. Spooked by the tree branches waving wildly on either side of them, the horse skidded to a halt.

"Come on boy," she urged him, "come on…" the pain in her chest was now almost unbearable and he refused to move forward. Rebecca slid down from the saddle and looped his reins over his head, determined to lead him back home. He still refused to budge, no matter how hard she pulled him. "Come on!" she started screaming at him, with what little breath she felt she had left. "Come on, move!" He reared up in front of her, scared by the darkness and the trees. Then, a tremendous wave of pain hit her and she dropped the reins. The horse immediately bolted back in the direction they had come. "No!" she called after him, "wait…!" Then the world spun around her and she collapsed onto the ground.

XXXX

Preston found himself unable to sleep. It was the reunion with Helen that had done it. Just when he thought he was settling into town, she had to turn up and throw everything into chaos. He had lain looking at the ceiling of the room above the bank for as long as he could bear it before deciding that a short ride out in the cold night air might tempt him into a sleep. Pulling on trousers, a shirt and a jacket, he let himself out of the bank and around to the livery where he boarded his horse Thunder. He had come with that name and though he desperately wished to change it, Preston found that he couldn't really think of anything better.

Trotting slowly, he and Thunder headed into the outskirts of town. The wind was brisk, but he didn't feel that cold. As he rode, he thought again about Helen. He had never expected her to appear in Colorado Springs. Perhaps if he had answered her letters the meeting could have been avoided. But, he realised now that he had taken the coward's way out and was paying the consequences. No doubt she would delight in telling everyone in town what he had done. Then again, he thought, she was so concerned about what other people thought that maybe she wouldn't want them to know.

He was deep in thought as he rode along the trail that at first, he didn't hear the sound of hooves coming rapidly towards him. All of a sudden, a horse appeared out of nowhere. It galloped wildly past him, causing him to pull Thunder up sharply. Turning in his saddle, he watched as the horse vanished into the darkness then he pressed onwards, wondering where it had come from. As he rounded the bend, he saw something lying on the trail. From a distance, it looked like a pile of clothes, but as he drew nearer, he saw that it was a person. Jumping down and looping Thunder's reins around a nearby tree, Preston hurried over, half expecting to find someone dead. He was shocked to see that it was Rebecca.

"Miss McKendrick!" he exclaimed, crouching down beside her, "Miss McKendrick…Rebecca? Rebecca, can you hear me?"

With a seemingly supreme effort, Rebecca's eyes started to open. He watched as she struggled to focus. "Preston…" her voice came out strained and raspy.

"Don't…don't try to talk," he interrupted her quickly. "Are you hurt? Can you stand?"

"I…I don't…"

"Can you sit up at least?" Putting one hand under her back, he gently helped her into a seated position. "Did you fall off your horse?"

"No, I…" she lifted her hand to her head, "My…my head…"

Preston looked and saw that she had a large gash above her left eye. "You're bleeding," he said, "You must have hit your head when you fell." He looked around for inspiration. "I should take you to Michaela's."

"No," Rebecca said hurriedly, "No, I don't need that."

"You're hurt. You need medical attention."

"I don't need medical attention. I just need to get back to the farm."

"Rebecca…" she looked at him, "Miss McKendrick…I urge you…"

"Please…just help me up." Gently, he helped her get to her feet. "My horse…"

"He's long gone, I'm afraid," Preston replied, "I can take you back to the farm, if that's what you really want."

"It's not far," she replied, "I can walk."

"Absolutely not!" Preston exclaimed, "You've just fallen from your horse! I'm not having you walking all that way with a head injury!"

Despite the aching in her body and the throbbing in her head, Rebecca found herself forced to smile. "I promise not to hold it against you if I don't make it there."

"You can ride with me," he said decisively. "Wait there." She waited as he retrieved Thunder and brought him back onto the trail. "Do you think you can climb up?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied. Wobbling slightly on her feet, she took hold of Thunder's reins and attempted to lift her foot into the stirrup. She couldn't quite manage it however and, somewhat sheepishly, turned to where Preston was standing behind her. "I can't quite…"

"Ah, of course." He stepped forward and then stopped. "I…well I mean I…"

"It's all right," she said, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. Allowing him to grip her around the waist, she pulled herself onto Thunder's back and slid forward in the saddle so that Preston could ride behind her. He swung himself up and, slipping his arms around her waist, took the reins from her.

"Are you all right?" he asked and she jumped at how close to her ear his voice was.

"Yes," she replied shakily, "thank you, Mr Lodge. I…I appreciate it."

"Please," he said, again so close to her ear, "call me Preston."

"Preston."

"May I _now _call you Rebecca?"

She felt herself relenting, despite the sensible part of her brain telling her not to. After all, what Sully had said over dinner was still in mind, despite the battering her head and body had just taken. But then, if he hadn't come along she may have been lying there all night. Not to mention the fact that it would be churlish, not to mention, rude to refuse his request now. What did it really matter if they were on first name terms? It wasn't as if it meant anything beyond a somewhat cordial acquaintance. "Yes," she said, "you may."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they arrived back at the farm, Rebecca was feeling slightly better. The pain in her head was still commanding, but the tightness in her chest had eased and she no longer felt dizzy. She knew that if she could just get inside, take her medication and get to bed she would feel a lot better in the morning. It always worked that way. Preston had refrained from talking any more to her on the ride back, seemingly to instinctively understand that she needed the time to bring herself back under control. Indeed, the only knowledge she had that he was there was the occasional movement of his body against hers and his breath periodically landing on the back of her neck. Only when he pulled Thunder to a halt in the farmyard did he speak to her again.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied. He slid down and then reached up to help her down. Once she was on the ground, she moved away from him. "Thank you again."

"I should see you inside."

"You don't have to, really."

"I'd feel better," he insisted. Relenting, Rebecca opened the front door and stepped inside. Preston followed her and closed the door behind him. "You should drink something," he said efficiently, "tea or…something…"

"Since when did you become a doctor?"

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away, "I didn't mean…"

"No, I…" Rebecca realised that he had misread her meaning, "I was only joking. I appreciate your concern, but I'll honestly be fine."

Preston hovered at the door, seemingly unsure as to what to do next. "I really think I should get Michaela to come and check you over. Especially to take a look at your head."

She touched the wound self-consciously. "I don't need that, really I don't," she insisted. "I'm just going to go to bed and I'm sure I'll feel a lot better in the morning. Really," she emphasised, seeing as he still looked unsure. She wanted him away from her, away from her sickness, her frailty.

"Well…" he said, "if you're sure…"

"I am, thank you. Please, I've taken up enough of your time as it is."

"Well…" he seemed to be fighting for the right words, "I'll…well…good night Rebecca."

"Good night, Preston." She replied. She watched as he opened the door and stepped back out into the cool night air. Climbing back onto Thunder, he gave her a brief smile before turning and heading away from the property. Rebecca closed the door behind him and leant against it, letting out a long sigh. Then, she moved into the kitchen and lifted the vial of digitalis from the drawer. She took the requisite dosage and then began boiling water to make tea. As she waited, she moved into her bedroom, taking off her slightly damp dress and replacing it with a nightshirt. Brushing out her hair, she examined the cut on her forehead. The bleeding had eased, but it was a nasty gash. She would have to have Michaela take a look at it, for cosmetic reasons if no other.

The kettle whistled, indicating that the water was ready and she moved back into the kitchen to pour the tea. Then she sat at the table to drink it and thought back over the evening's events. She would never have thought that Preston would have been so concerned. But then, she said to herself, if she had come across his prostrate body in the road human nature would have made her equally as concerned.

"He was only being gentlemanly," she said aloud to nobody in particular. After drinking the tea, she made her way back through to the bedroom, slipped under the covers and was asleep in seconds.

XXXX

The following morning, as Preston was preparing to open the bank, he caught sight of Michaela about to go into the clinic. Thinking about Rebecca, he hurried over. "Michaela!"

She turned, "Preston."

"I was hoping to catch you. I think you should ride out to Rebecca's farm this morning."

"Really?" Michaela asked, "Why's that?"

He found himself irked by her. "Because I found her unconscious in the road last night, that's why."

Michaela's eyes widened, "What?"

Preston nodded. "She didn't really say what happened, but she had a nasty gash to her forehead. Now, I'm no doctor, but I think it could use a stitch."

"She was at the homestead for dinner last night. It must have happened on the way home. Why didn't you come and get me?"

"Believe me, I tried," Preston replied, "She wouldn't let me. That woman is insufferably stubborn."

"Well," Michaela said, "it certainly takes someone equally as stubborn to see that." She unhooked her horse's reins from the fencepost. "I'll ride up there now."

"I'll come with you. Just give me a moment to get my horse."

"I really don't think that'll be necessary," Michaela said. "I can manage."

"I'm not suggesting for a minute that you can't. But I would like to see that Rebecca is all right."

Michaela sighed, "Well, I don't suppose I can really stop you." She waited while he retrieved Thunder and then they began making their way out of town towards the farm. "What exactly happened?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "Her horse came thundering past me and the next moment, I saw her lying there in the middle of the road."

"How long was she unconscious for?"

"I've no idea. Perhaps two or three minutes after I got there? Does it matter?" he looked over at her.

"It might well do. Head injuries can be serious." Michaela sighed heavily.

Preston looked at her curiously, "What's wrong with her?"

"Who?"

"Rebecca," he said, slightly impatiently. "Come on, Michaela, we've all seen it. Those fainting spells at the café, now what happened last night. There's something seriously wrong with her, isn't there?"

Michaela kept her gaze fixed ahead, "Even if I knew, Preston, I couldn't tell you."

"Even if you knew?" he echoed, "you mean you don't know what it is?" Michaela didn't reply. "If it's something serious…"

Michaela pulled her horse to a stop and faced him. "Preston, I'm a doctor. I can't divulge what patients tell me. If Rebecca wants you to know then she'll tell you herself."

He really had no answer for that, and had little alternative but to continue to follow her towards the farm. When they reached it, the blinds were still drawn and there was no sign of life. Michaela pulled her horse to a halt and slid down. Moving over to the door, she knocked and called out Rebecca's name. At first there was no reply, so she knocked and called out again.

"I hope she's all right," she said.

"I'll check at the back," Preston said. He made his way around the side of the farmhouse to the backyard. As he did so, he marvelled once again at the improvements Rebecca had made. The place did really look much better. She really was quite determined. He admired that in a woman, liked it even. He couldn't ever have imagined Helen toiling on a farm like this. As he made his way to the back door, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see Rebecca coming out of the barn and closing the door behind her. He immediately noticed that she was wearing only her nightshirt and dressing gown.

When she turned and saw him, her eyes widened in shock. "Preston!" She gasped, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her.

"Oh…uh…" Preston averted his gaze, "good morning Rebecca…I…"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I…" he fought for words while trying to not look at her. "I ran into Michaela this morning and…"

"Michaela?" At that moment, Michaela appeared around the side of the house and stopped short when she saw them both.

"Ah, Michaela!" Preston exclaimed, "Well…I found her."

"So I see."

"What are you both doing here?" Rebecca asked.

"Preston told me what happened last night," Michaela said, "I wanted to come and take a look at your head."

Rebecca touched it gently, "It's really nothing, honestly."

"I'd still like to look at it anyway." They both looked at Preston.

"Oh, I'll wait out here," he said quickly.

Rebecca led Michaela into the farmhouse and through into the kitchen where she dutifully sat down and allowed her friend to examine her head. "What did Preston tell you?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"That he found you unconscious in the road."

Rebecca sighed, "I don't know what happened. One minute I was trying to get my horse to move and the next…" she winced.

"Sorry. Did you fall from your horse?" Rebecca didn't reply and Michaela paused to look at her. "Did you?"

"No."

"You had another attack?" Rebecca nodded wordlessly. "Rebecca I wish you would let me examine you."

"Michaela, we've been through this," Rebecca replied, "I already know what's wrong with me."

"Yes, but your condition might have changed since you last saw your doctor. If it has, perhaps the medication you're taking isn't enough. You might need more or less, or different medication. Rebecca…" Michaela sat down, "I know you think I'm interfering…"

"No I don't…"

"But I wouldn't be saying all this if I wasn't concerned about you."

Rebecca sighed heavily, "I suppose I thought that…if I ignored it, it would go away. I suppose I thought that by coming back here I had left it behind me in Boston." She looked up. "Does that sound crazy?"

"No," Michaela replied, "it sounds human." She finished treating Rebecca's head. "Why don't you come to the clinic tomorrow and I'll give you a full examination." Rebecca nodded. "And, if you give me your doctor's name in Boston I can wire him and tell him I've taken over your treatment."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Rebecca replied, lifting a piece of paper from the table and hurriedly scribbling down her doctor's name.

Michaela pocketed it, "Tomorrow then."

Rebecca nodded, "Tomorrow."

"And no heavy work today. You need to recover."

Rebecca laughed, "Believe me Michaela, I wouldn't have been wandering about the farm in my nightshirt if I had been planning to do any heavy work. Or if I had been expecting Preston to appear out of nowhere."

Michaela smiled, "He did seem rather concerned about you."

To her surprise, Rebecca found herself blushing. "I'm sure he was only concerned in case I wasn't able to fulfil my side of the bargain."

"Perhaps."

"Michaela…"

"I didn't say anything."

"Anyway, he's getting married, remember? His fiancee's in town." Rebecca stood up and looked out of the window where Preston was standing next to his horse. "Besides, he has the power to take the farm away from me. I have to remember that. Not to mention the fact that…"

Michaela looked up from where she was packing up her bag, "What?"

Rebecca fought down the familiar feelings of sorrow and self-pity. "Nothing," she replied, "nothing at all."

XXXX

"So, you're here all the way from Boston," Jake sat down next to Helen at Grace's Café. She nodded. "What made you come all the way to Colorado Springs?"

"Well…" she paused, wondering exactly what to say. Did she want everyone to know what had happened between her and Preston? "I'm a friend of Mr Lodge."

"A friend?"

"That's correct."

"So you came out here for a visit?"

Helen focused on her breakfast, "Something like that."

"Well you know, if Mr Lodge is too busy, I'm always available to show you around town. I don't believe there's anyone better qualified than the town's mayor."

This piqued Helen's interest, "Mayor?" Jake nodded. "I had no idea."

"Yeah well, one day I'll actually get a sign made for me," Jake replied, glowering at Robert E as he replied. "Well you're probably the first friend of Preston's that I've met."

Helen looked at him out of the corner of her eye, "Do I detect a slight note of irritation?" Jake looked at her. "You and Preston aren't friends?"

Jake snorted. "No, we're not."

"Really?" Helen put her fork down and gave Jake her full attention. "Do explain."

"He came here so full of himself. Opening that bank, chopping down the Kissing Tree…"

"What's the Kissing Tree?"

"It was a large oak tree folks in town liked. He cut it down because it was standing where he wanted to build his homestead. Folks weren't too pleased."

"I see," Helen said, "so Preston isn't exactly the most popular person in town?"

"You could say that."

Helen smiled to herself. This was all good to know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Keep reviewing! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!**

"Don't forget about tomorrow," Michaela reminded Rebecca as the younger woman showed her out of the farmhouse. Preston, who had been standing by the horses, looked up at their sudden appearance in the doorway. "I'll see you at eleven."

"I'll be there," Rebecca promised. Glancing up, she locked gazes with Preston and self-consciously pulled her dressing gown closer around her. "Thank you."

"I trust you're feeling better?" he enquired.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, "and thank you again for what you did last night. I do appreciate it."

"It was nothing," he replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. "Well, if you're ready to go back to town, Michaela, please allow me to accompany you."

"Why thank you Mr Lodge," Michaela replied, rolling her eyes at Rebecca as she spoke.

Preston touched his hat, "Rebecca."

"Preston." Then she stood and watched as the two of them rode away from the property. A laugh escaped from her lips at the absurdity of the whole situation. Closing the front door, she made her way back towards the kitchen, pausing momentarily at the mirror in the hallway and examining herself. She was pale and the angry red cut on her forehead stood out against her face. Her hair was in disarray. Putting it plainly, she looked an absolute fright. She wandered into the kitchen and then through the rest of the farmhouse, looking at each room in turn. Memories of her childhood swirled around her head, memories of her father…with tears pricking at her eyes, she went to the trunk at the bottom of her bed and lifted out the scrapbook that she had kept with her at every juncture of her life. There was her parents wedding photograph, both of them looking stoic and yet with whispers of smiles on their lips. She couldn't help but think how alike her mother she was. The same oval face, same long dark hair, same wide eyes, same sickness. Forcing herself not to dwell on it, she turned the pages, smiling at the scraps of paper, other photographs and trinkets. There were various photographs of her mother's family, a poem her grandmother had written, letters that her parents had written each other during the months they had courted. Each one was precious, a link to her past, a link to a family line that she could never continue.

Angrily, she slammed the scrapbook shut and threw it back into the trunk. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She had thought it would be enough to come back to Colorado Springs and work the farm, thought it would be enough to become friends again with all the people she had left behind so many years ago. But it wasn't. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Unable to face the thought of doing anything else, Rebecca climbed back into her bed and pulled the covers over her head. Anything to shut the world out, to stop it from turning for one day, to stop herself thinking about what she could never have. Even if she felt anything for Preston, _which she didn't,_ and even if he wasn't engaged _which he was, _there could never be anything more than a cordial friendship. There could never be anything more with any man, and what man would accept that? What man would accept her?

XXXX

It was just after eleven on Wednesday morning when Rebecca rode into town heading for Michaela's clinic. Having spent the previous day wallowing in self-pity in her nightclothes, she had greeted Wednesday with renewed vigour. Feeling sorry for herself was not going to help her reach her goal of getting the farm back together again. Only hard work and determination would do that. Not to mention, she had been forced to admit to herself grudgingly, her taking better care of her health.

As she dismounted and tied her horse to the post, she caught sight of Helen Draper coming out of Loren's store. The other woman was dressed impeccably in a beautiful green dress that screamed of Boston. Rebecca couldn't help but find herself staring, thinking how out of place Helen looked and yet how beautiful. No wonder Preston was planning to marry her.

"It's Rebecca, isn't it?"

Rebecca found herself shaken from her daydream as Helen came towards her, "Oh…yes, yes it is. I'm sorry, I was miles away."

"I'm Helen. We met a few days ago?"

"Yes I remember," Rebecca replied, smiling, "how are you liking our town?"

"It's certainly grown on me since Monday. Indeed, I've decided to stay a little longer. I didn't realise how charming and friendly people were. I had a very nice conversation with Mayor Slicker yesterday."

"With Jake?"

The surprise must have shown on Rebecca's face. Helen smiled, "Yes, he was very informative about the town. Indeed, he gave me the grand tour."

"I would have thought that Preston would have wanted to do that." Helen merely smiled, "Are you planning to live here in town after you're married?"

"Between you and I…" Helen replied, "I'm hoping to be able to persuade him to return to Boston. But you know Preston…"

"Well if you do decide to settle here, I hope you're both very happy."

"I understand that you have come back to town to save your home." Rebecca frowned, trying to remember how much she had revealed to Helen. "Oh Mayor Slicker told me all about it," the other woman broke in, "I think it's very noble of you attempting to save the home you love."

"Thank you."

"I'll be sure to tell Preston to make sure he's fair with you. I know what men can be like when it comes to business."

Rebecca wasn't particularly enamoured with the idea of Preston discussing her business with Helen, but she merely smiled politely, "Thank you."

"Not at all."

"If you'll excuse me…" she gestured to the door of the clinic.

"Oh yes of course!" Helen exclaimed, "I'm sorry. Please don't let me keep you." With that, she turned and made her way back across to the boarding house.

Rebecca turned and rang the bell. A few seconds later, the door opened and Michaela appeared. "I'm here," the former said, "as instructed."

"Come in," Michaela replied, "I've received a wire from your doctor in Boston."

XXXX

Preston had been examining the shine on the windows of the bank when he had turned in time to see Rebecca pull up in front of the clinic. He had been about to go over and speak to her when he had also seen Helen emerge from the store and immediately begin a conversation with her. Instinctively, he had kept back, going into the bank and watching from the window until he saw Helen turn to walk away. He had no time to get to Rebecca however before she went into the clinic, so he turned his attentions to Helen who was walking purposefully across the road.

"Helen!" She turned as he came hurrying out of the bank and fixed him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm glad I caught you."

"Good morning, Preston," she said.

"How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you. I was just saying to Rebecca how much I'm liking your town."

Preston frowned, "You are?"

She nodded, "In fact, I've decided to stay a little longer. Oh I know that I said I would be leaving on today's train but quite frankly, I've met so many nice people that I would like to get to know them a little better."

"Nice people?"

"Mayor Slicker for example. I had a very nice conversation with him yesterday morning over breakfast. I had hoped that you might have put in an appearance but you were clearly engaged elsewhere." There was no trace of malice in her tone which made Preston even more wary. "And then, he showed me around town."

"He did?"

"Yes. It's much nicer than I had thought it would be."

"Well I'm…I'm glad you think so."

"He also had some rather interesting anecdotes to share about you." She looked at him pointedly. "You're not exactly his favourite person in town."

"Nor is he mine," Preston replied quickly. "Do you have any idea how long you're intending to stay?"

Helen waved her hand, "I haven't decided."

"But you have told people that we're not…I mean that we aren't…" she looked at him in confusion. "You have said that…"

"Preston please try and finish a sentence."

"I mean, have you told people that we are no longer engaged?" he dropped his voice.

"No," she replied, "I haven't. I thought I could always leave that to you. Now, if you'll excuse me…" she made a show of checking the time on the bank clock. "I have to get ready for lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Yes, Preston. Lunch." With that, she moved past him back towards the boarding house.

XXXX

"So, if I increase my dosage of digitalis that will stop the attacks?" Rebecca looked at Michaela for confirmation.

"It's the first step that I'd like to take," Michaela replied.

"But Doctor Taylor didn't seem to think that there had been a serious deterioration in my condition?"

"No, but his telegram did indicate that he was concerned about the attacks you've been experiencing."

"But you've just said that if I increase my medication…"

"I said it was the first step."

Rebecca sighed heavily. "I suppose I was hoping for a magic cure."

Michaela smiled, "An increase should make you feel better. If that doesn't work…"

"What?"

"Then we may have to look at other options."

"Such as?"

"A different medication perhaps. You can get dressed now." Rebecca started re-buttoning her dress. "I'd like you to come back in a week. You've had three attacks in the last week. If you don't have any by this time next week, then we'll know it's working."

Rebecca nodded, "That sounds fair."

"I also want you to drink willowbark tea every day." Michaela handed her a pocketful of the leaves.

Rebecca looked at them suspiciously, "What is it?"

"It's an Indian remedy. It's proven to be very effective for making you feel better under stress. That can't be helping your condition."

Rebecca pocketed them, "Thank you." She reached into her purse and took out some money.

"Try and take things a little easier."

Rebecca laughed, "With all the work I still have to do?" Michaela gave her a reproachful look. "Yes Doctor Quinn, I'll try my best." She opened the door. "I need to go to the telegraph office and see if I've had any replies yet. Thank you again."

"You're welcome," Michaela replied.

Stepping out into the cool breeze, Rebecca let out a long, shaky breath. She had been worried that the examination would throw up something more serious. But if all it took was for her to take a little more digitalis, then that would hardly be a problem. Determinedly, she strode down to the telegraph office and waited in line while Horace dealt with some packages.

"Morning Horace," she greeted him when she reached the front, "I was hoping you might have received some responses to my telegrams."

"Morning Rebecca," he replied flatly, "here you go." He handed her three telegrams. "They came in last night."

Rebecca took them from him and read through them quickly. _I'm sorry to inform you…I wish I could help…I'm not looking for…_Angrily, she crumpled them up in her hand, feeling all her renewed hope fly out of her body and into the wind. "You were right," she told Horace, "it's because I'm a woman."

"Ya don't know that," he replied unconvincingly.

She nodded her head, "Yes I do. I was a fool to think this would work." Stuffing the offending pieces of paper into her pocket, she marched away from the telegraph office, back up the hill to the clinic where she had left her horse. She didn't see anybody passing her or talking to her. All she could see was her own failure, that she had just under seven weeks to go and she was getting nowhere. That with every passing day it grew closer to the time when she would have to make payment and she was nowhere near having enough.

By the time she reached her horse, she knew she was going to break down. She had to get out of town as quickly as possible. She was about to mount when someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Leave me alone!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry."

Turning, she saw Matthew standing behind her. "Oh…Matthew, I'm sorry," she ducked her head so that he wouldn't see that she was upset, "I didn't realise it was you, I…" she cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, it's been a bit of a bad morning, that's all."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." She gave him as bright a smile as she could.

"You sure? You look like you've been crying."

"Matthew, I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine."

"But…"

"Please!" she snapped at him, "please, just leave me alone!" He stepped back from her, clearly hurt by her tone. "Matthew…" before she could apologise, he had turned away. Knowing that she had just yelled at one of the few people who actually cared about her, Rebecca didn't try to stop the tears. She leant her head against her horse's back and allowed them to fall, not caring who might see her.

"Rebecca?" She didn't reply and didn't lift her head this time either. If she didn't acknowledge them, they would go away. "Rebecca, are you all right?" A hand was placed on her arm but she still didn't move or respond. "Are you ill? Do you need me to get Michaela?" Perhaps it was the way he said _Michaela _that made her realise who it was. She lifted her head and through her tear-stained vision saw Preston looking at her with concern. "Do you?" he asked her again. "Do you need Michaela?"

"No," she replied. She made no move to wipe away her tears, just letting them lie on her cheeks. Preston reached into his pocket and gingerly handed her his handkerchief. She looked at it for a few moments before accepting it from him and wiping her eyes.

"I came to enquire as to whether or not you were feeling better," he said cautiously, "and to tell you that your account was credited with money from Boston this morning."

"Thank you," she replied as evenly as she could, "on both counts. I'm correct in assuming, however, that my first repayment isn't due until the end of the month, aren't I?"

"Yes," he replied, "yes of course."

"Then I'd be obliged if the money could remain in my account for now. Until I have time to add to it."

"Of course." He paused. "Rebecca, despite what you might think…"

"What do I think?" she cut him off.

"I'm not wanting to take the farm away from you. I want you to make a success of it. Truly, I do."

"I appreciate that, Preston," she replied, wiping her eyes again, "but I'm afraid that ultimately, you may have little choice."

"I don't understand."

She looked at him again, "It doesn't matter." She passed him back his handkerchief. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

"Let me buy you lunch," he said quickly.

"Lunch?" He nodded, "Really, there's no need."

"I know that," he replied, "but I'd like to."

Rebecca looked at him and felt her insides jump in a way that she had rarely experienced before. She wasn't supposed to feel anything…she shouldn't feel anything…Then a cold sensation flooded her as she remembered the two most important things: one, he was engaged and two, even if he wasn't, she could never… "Thank you for the offer," she replied, "but I'm afraid I have to get back to the farm." Before he could respond, she swung herself onto her horse.

"Rebecca…" he started, taking hold of her horse's bridle.

"Preston, whatever you're going to say, don't." She couldn't bear to hear it, whatever it was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of green and, looking up, saw Helen hovering at the door of the bank, watching them. "Your fiancee's waiting," she gestured with her head. As he turned to look, she clicked her horse forward, forcing him to let go, and set off at a fast pace out of town.


	9. Chapter 9

Preston didn't see Rebecca again for the next fortnight. It wasn't for want of trying on his part. He would scour the town for her most days at lunch or after the bank had closed. Every other day, he rode out to the farm to see if she was all right. She never answered the door to him. He didn't know if she was actually there or if she was just actively avoiding him. Whatever the reason, it was starting to grate on him and he was surprised by the strength of his feelings.

One person who was certainly _not _actively avoiding him was Helen. Far from staying 'a little longer' she had now been in town for almost three weeks. And far from being the haughty outsider, she had somehow managed to ingratiate herself with the whole town. Jake seemed particularly enamoured although, to give him his due, he stopped short of completely fawning over her given that he still believed her to be engaged to him. Even Michaela, who upon meeting Helen had been drawn into a long conversation about Boston, appeared to be enthralled by her. Nothing had yet been said by either of them about their relationship. Reverend Johnston had, at one point, approached Preston and subtly tried to begin a conversation about potential venues for the wedding, but Preston had managed to put him off. Whenever someone congratulated him, he merely nodded and thanked them. Helen, he noticed, acted no differently.

It was Sunday and, by Preston's reckoning, Rebecca was due to pay the first of her two monthly instalments the following day. He wondered how she intended on doing it. Was he expected to go to the farm or would she be coming to the bank? He had enquired with Michaela as to how Rebecca was but from the rather vague response he had received, he believed that she too had had little contact with the other woman.

Preston didn't usually attend church if he could avoid it. Years of being forced to go by his parents in Boston and sit side by side with his brothers though one of Reverend Collins' mundane services had put him off for life. But, on occasion, he had been known to make the effort and since Helen had been in town, and since he knew that the after service gathering was one of the biggest hotbeds of gossip, he had taken to attending on the last few occasions.

As he neared the church that morning, the first thing he saw was Helen standing talking with Jake and Dorothy. She was laughing uproariously at something which the latter had just said and didn't see him at first. When she did, she waved gaily. "Good morning Preston!"

"Good morning Helen," he returned her greeting and touched his hat. He also saw Dorothy and Jake exchange looks as if they couldn't quite believe that this was how intended people greeted one another. "You're looking lovely this morning." He had to admit that despite everything, Helen was a beautiful woman. She was in black and white today, a no doubt exceedingly expensive creation from Boston. But she wore it well. "Dorothy. Jake."

Helen stepped forward and took his arm, propelling him away from the others. "Just in time," she whispered conspiringly.

"In time for what?" he replied.

"Saving me from another protracted discussion with _Mayor _Slicker."

"It was my impression that you had developed quite an affinity for Jake," Preston wriggled his arm away from her.

"Oh, come now Preston," she chided him, "he's an interesting man I grant you, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?"

"Isn't what obvious?"

"Well the fact that I…"

"Good morning Rebecca!" Preston whirled around before Helen had time to finish her sentence to see Michaela hurry over to where Rebecca had just pulled her wagon to a halt. He watched as the two women exchanged pleasantries before Sully appeared alongside and offered Rebecca his hand to descend. She accepted it and gently dropped onto the ground.

He couldn't help noticing how beautiful she looked. A deep blue gossamer dress and bonnet set off her dark hair and pale complexion. Even from the distance he could see that her eyes were bright and her smile wide. He watched as the three of them laughed about something before Matthew came over to join them. He saw Rebecca embrace Matthew and observed as she appeared to be apologising to him about something. From the way Matthew was smiling at her, Preston could tell that he had accepted it, whatever it was.

"Oh I see." He turned back around to see Helen watching him.

"See what?" he asked her.

Helen glanced at Rebecca. "It's all perfectly clear now, Preston." Before he could ask her what she meant, she lifted her skirts and made her way towards the church door. He turned back to Rebecca and saw that she too was making her way towards the church. He had no time to speak to her at that point, so he followed them into the church and slipped into an empty seat directly behind her. He waited until a break in her conversation with Matthew and then leant forward.

"I must say, Rebecca, you're looking very well this morning."

She jumped slightly and then turned in her seat to face him. He saw how blue her eyes looked against her face and for a moment, found himself unable to speak. "Good morning Preston." Her tone was even, relaxed, so different from the last time they had spoken.

"How are you feeling?" he asked when he had found his voice again.

"Much better thank you."

"That's good," he smiled at her.

"You'll have your money tomorrow," she said unprompted.

His smile slipped slightly, "I wasn't asking…"

"I know," she interrupted him. Then she turned back to face the front as Reverend Johnson took to the pulpit.

At the end of the service, Preston tried to get her attention again but she was engrossed in talking to Matthew and Michaela that it was almost impossible. As the crush of people moved out of the church, he waited at the bottom of the steps for her. When she came down towards him, he stepped forward.

"I was hoping that you might consent to have lunch with me this afternoon."

Rebecca looked momentarily taken aback. She stepped away from the others and he followed her. "It's a lovely suggestion Preston but…"

"You can't turn me down twice," he said, half jokingly.

Rebecca looked away, "It's not exactly proper. You have a fiancée…"

"No, I don't," he told her hurriedly, "Helen and I are no longer together." He saw her look of surprise. "It was over long before she came to town."

"Then why…?"

"I don't know," he pre-empted her. "Short of physically lifting her onto the train, I'm not sure how to get her back to Boston." Rebecca tried to stop the smile on her face but didn't succeed. "Despite that, I would be honoured if you would have lunch with me today."

"Hey Rebecca!" They both looked over at Matthew who was standing a few feet away, "You coming?"

"In a moment," she replied. Turning back to him, she shifted uncomfortably, "I'm sorry Preston but I already have plans for lunch today."

"Oh," he said, "oh, I see. Well, perhaps tomorrow then? After you come to the bank?"

She lifted her head and looked at him defiantly, "I'll be at the bank first thing tomorrow, Preston, as promised."

"I wasn't implying…"

"I think it would better if we kept our relationship strictly business, don't you? At least until…certain issues are resolved." He knew she was referring both to the farm and to Helen, but he took comfort that it didn't appear to be a complete rejection.

"Of course," he said, "as you see fit."

Rebecca nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow at ten."

He nodded, "Of course." Then he watched as she walked towards Matthew and took his arm. As he did so, he could see Helen watching him from a distance, a look of pure fury on her face.

XXXX

"You don't have to keep apologising," Matthew said as they sat at Grace's.

"Yes I do," Rebecca said, "I shouldn't have said what I did and…"

"You've said this four times already!"

She grinned, "I suppose I am going on a bit. As long as you forgive me, I promise not to mention it again."

"I forgive you."

"I'm glad, thank you."

"But only on one condition."

Rebecca looked up from her soup, "What's that?"

"Rebecca!" Matthew was preventing from replying by Helen sweeping over to the table. "I'm so glad I caught you!"

"You are?" Rebecca said before she could stop herself.

"Absolutely!" Helen sat down opposite them both, "I was hoping that we could have a little talk this afternoon. Woman to woman."

Rebecca glanced at Matthew, "I suppose so. What kind of little talk?"

"Shall we meet at the church at three o'clock?" Helen continued, without answering Rebecca's question.

"Oh…uh…of course. That would be fine."

"Good. I'll see you there!" Helen rose and stalked away before Rebecca could ask her any more questions.

"What was that about?" Matthew asked once she was out of earshot.

"I have absolutely no idea," Rebecca replied, "Anyway, what was that condition you were going to impose on my forgiveness?"

All of a sudden, Matthew went red and looked away, "Well…I was hoping that…"

"Yes?"

"Well, there's a sweetheart dance next Saturday and I was hoping…well…hoping that you might agree to go with me?" He looked at her as if to say, 'there, I said it.'

Rebecca smiled indulgently. He really was sweet, she had to give him that, but she would be lying if she said that she felt anything straying remotely near love. "Matthew…"

"No, it's alright," he broke in, anticipating her answer, "It doesn't matter. It was just a thought…"

"I'd love to go with you," she said, "but, it would have to be strictly as friends." He looked away, "I'm sorry if I've given you the impression that…"

"No," he said, "no, you haven't."

"Sometimes having friends can be more important than…well…anything else," she continued, "and you've been such a good friend to me since I came back to town. Can we go as friends?"

"Sure," he nodded.

"Good," Rebecca said, "now, as a friend, what on earth do you think Helen wants to chat to me about?"

XXXX

At three o'clock, Rebecca made her way, slightly nervously, back over to the church. She and Matthew had talked endlessly about what the 'little chat' could be about and had reached no conclusions. As she drew nearer, she caught sight of Helen standing at the bottom of the steps.

"Helen?"

The other woman turned, "Ah, Rebecca. I'm glad you could join me."

"I must admit to being a little intrigued," Rebecca said, "why all the secrecy?"

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Helen looked up at the sky. Despite the fact that it was chilly, the sun was shining brightly and the sky was cloudless.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"You must have seen some beautiful days living here."

"I've seen some beautiful ones in Boston too."

Helen's head snapped down to look at her and Rebecca was surprised to see that her eyes were cold. "I wanted to do this in as dignified a way as possible," she said, "but quite frankly I'm not sure how."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I've seen the way he looks at you."

"The way who looks at me?" Rebecca asked, confused.

"I'm referring to Preston," Helen said impatiently, "my fiancé."

"But I thought that…"

"You thought what?" Helen snapped.

"Well, he told me that the two of you were…well…no longer together. I'm sorry if I misunderstood…"

"I don't care what he told you. I won't be made a fool of by a…a…country girl!"

If Rebecca had been intimidated before, she now felt her hackles rising at this. "I don't know why you feel to have to say this to me, but I will _not _be spoken to like this!"

"Are you denying it?"

"Denying what?!"

"That he's in love with you!"

Rebecca took a step back, physically shocked by the other woman's words, "You're…you're mistaken," she said, "there is nothing between Preston and I…"

"Perhaps not on your side," Helen said, "and perhaps not yet. But there is for him. I've known him for four years. I can tell. He used to look at me the way he looks at you. I saw it at the church this morning and that's when I knew. That's when I knew that it wasn't working. That I wasn't going to get him back." She stepped closer to Rebecca, "Do you know what it would mean to my family for me to marry Preston? It's an expected alliance! The Lodges' and the Drapers'. It's been planned for years!"

"Helen, I…"

"And I'm not going to let you take it away from me." Helen glared at her. "I still have a chance to persuade him to honour his commitment to me, but only if you're safely out of the way!"

"I've never given Preston the slightest indication that I feel anything for him!" Rebecca shot back, "If you've seen him displaying any sort of affection towards me it has been completely unprompted, I assure you!"

"But not exactly rebuffed." Helen looked at her superciliously, "I want you to tell him that you don't feel anything for him."

"Why should I?" Rebecca asked, "I've never encouraged him!"

"Then make sure that it never goes any further."

"Helen," Rebecca said slowly, "I am sorry that your relationship with Preston has broken down and I am sorry that you somehow feel that he has projected feelings onto me, but I have done nothing to warrant them and I am not about to start interfering!" She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Well," Helen said in the ensuing silence, "well then. I shall just have to deal with this myself!" With that, she swept away back across the bridge towards town.

Rebecca watched her go, her heart beating furiously in her chest. For a moment, she was convinced she was going to have another attack, but slowly, she brought herself under control. Helen was delusional. Preston didn't feel anything for her, it wasn't possible. He was the banker. The man who held the keys to her future in his hands. The man to whom she had to hand over a sizeable amount of money tomorrow. He had only asked her out for lunch because he wanted to enquire after her health. Slowly, she began to walk back to town.

And she didn't feel anything for him. Nothing. Nothing at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**I hope you're still enjoying it! Keep those reviews coming - much appreciated.**

**October 1870**

As Rebecca approached the bank the following morning, Helen's words resounded in her ears. The other woman had clearly hoped that her prolonged visit to Colorado Springs would make Preston realise that he was still in love with her. Quite obviously that hadn't happened. She felt increasingly uncomfortable that Helen appeared to believe that she had something to do with the fact that Helen was not destined to become Mrs Lodge. All of the previous afternoon she had thought back over every conversation she had ever had with Preston, trying to pinpoint if there was any hint of behaviour that would indicate that he felt anything for her. He had shown concern for her, certainly, but…that didn't mean that he was, as Helen insisted, in love with her.

She paused at the door of the bank, suddenly afraid of going inside. Was she encouraging him? Was she giving off a signal that she was interested in pursuing a relationship with him? The very thought made her shudder, not because she didn't find Preston attractive, indeed to her surprise she did, but because of everything else…

Taking a deep breath, she stepped in the door of the bank and paused as she saw that Preston was speaking to a man she didn't recognise. She waited, unsure whether she should turn around and come back in a few minutes. Before she had time to decide, however, he looked up and saw her.

"Rebecca!" he got to his feet and smiled at her, "Mr Dawson and I had just finished, hadn't we sir?" The other man mumbled his reply and quickly left the bank, brushing past her as he did so. "Please." He opened the half door for her and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "You look well."

"Thank you," she replied, self-consciously sitting down. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"Not at all," he replied.

"Well, I've come to pay the first instalment as agreed," she reached into her purse and withdrew a wad of banknotes. "I believe that if this can be put with the money in my account, it should match the total figure." Preston took the money from her and she watched as he mentally added it up. "I managed to persuade some of my father's old contacts to do some business with me. I've been spending time the last few weeks in Denver and Soda Springs trying to build things back up. It's not been easy but…"

"But…" he paused, "if I take the money out of your account, you'll be left with nothing."

"I have a small amount still at the farm," Rebecca replied, feeling herself blush. "I won't be destitute if that's what you're worried about."

"No, but…" he stopped and then held the money back out to her. "Take it back."

"I'm sorry?" she replied, confused.

"Take it and keep it for now. You can pay me the entire amount at the end of this month."

"But I…we have an agreement in writing."

"I know and I'm fully aware that you intend to honour it but…" he sighed, "I don't want to take every penny you have right now."

"I told you…"

"Please."

Rebecca looked at the earnestness of his expression and her thoughts wandered back to Helen's comments…_he's in love with you…_

"Preston," she began slowly, "I'm not sure that your showing me such favour is a good idea." He frowned at her. "I mean, it may only increase the already false opinion some people have of our…relationship."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I mean that…" Rebecca struggled for words, "some people believe that…"

When she didn't continue, he cajoled her, "Some people believe what?"

"Lord, I didn't want to get into this!" She got to her feet and turned her back on him. "I had a very…enlightening conversation with Miss Draper yesterday." She turned back to face him, "She seems to be under the impression that…well that…"

"Yes?" he said, slightly impatiently.

"Well, that you have…feelings for me."

"Feelings?"

"That you're in love with me." The words were out before she realised and she instantly felt regret flood through her. She shouldn't have been so forward. "I'm sorry," she said hurriedly, "I shouldn't have…"

"What exactly did Helen say?" Preston cut her off.

"That she has observed certain…looks passing between us." Rebecca looked away, "And she regaled me with how your marriage has been expected for some time and is, indeed, somewhat of a foregone conclusion." Preston ran a hand over his eyes and sighed heavily. "From what you told me at the church yesterday though, I'm guessing that your feelings on the subject differ somewhat."

He looked up at her, "Yes they do. She's right," he gestured for her to sit back down and she obliged. "The marriage has been expected for some time. Our parents have always been close friends, though I knew Helen very little until a few years ago. Until we began being thrust together at every available opportunity. Initially it was thought that she might be a suitable match for my older brother James but then he met his wife and the idea was quickly disposed of."

"And you became a suitable alternative?"

He smiled at her, "Something like that. At first I was happy to go along with it. She was…is…a pleasant enough woman, but over time I began to see that there was nothing beyond the surface. Nothing that went any deeper than the next ball or supper party. I began to see that she wasn't someone I could truly love."

Rebecca felt herself growing uncomfortable, "You don't have to tell me…"

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting forward, "I have no wish to embarrass you."

"No, it's not that," she protested, "It's just…well…your relationship with Miss Draper is really none of my concern."

"I think it is if she is implying that you and I are more than mere business acquaintances."

Rebecca met his gaze and felt her breath catch quite suddenly in her throat. "Well," she said, "since you helped me after my accident a fortnight ago, I suppose I've viewed our relationship as being…well…more than that."

"You have?"

She nodded, "I suppose I consider you…a friend."

"A friend." He repeated her words.

"Yes."

He looked at her for a long moment without saying anything. "May I ask…" he stopped suddenly and she waited for him to continue, "may I ask whether or not there is anything more than friendship between yourself and Matthew Cooper?"

"Matthew?" Rebecca exclaimed, "Of course not!"

"There isn't?"

"No," she replied, "he's a good friend who's helped me so much with the farm but, I can assure you, there is nothing more to it than that. At least not on my side," she added, remembering the conversation she had had with him at Grace's.

"But you think there is on his side?" Rebecca lowered her eyes and didn't reply. "Of course you don't have to respond to that," he added quickly. "I'm sorry that Helen has seen fit to draw you into our problems."

"Not at all," Rebecca got to her feet, "but perhaps it might be wise of you to set her straight."

"Set her straight?"

"Well, perhaps you should reassure her that the demise of your relationship has nothing to do with any feelings that she mistakenly believes you have for me."

"Oh yes, yes," he said, "yes of course."

"And are you quite sure about postponing my payment until the end of the month?" She lifted the money from the table.

"Yes," he replied, "quite sure."

Rebecca held out her hand, "Thank you Preston." He took it in his own and she felt a surge go through her again. "Good day."

"Good day Rebecca," he replied, watching as she left the bank. As she stepped through the door, Horace appeared, and after touching his hat to her, entered the bank.

"Mornin' Preston," he greeted him.

"Horace," Preston replied, watching Rebecca's retreating figure. "What can I do for you today?"

"Got a telegram for you from Boston," he handed it over. "I hope it ain't bad news."

Preston took it from him and scanned it quickly.

_Preston. Alarming news has reached us. I insist that you return to Boston immediately. Father._

"Like I said," Horace said, "I hope it ain't bad news."

"Thank you Horace," Preston said, reading it over again. _Alarming news…_what could that mean?

XXXX

After leaving the bank, Rebecca headed over to the store to pick up some supplies. Her head felt as though it were floating somewhere above her body. She wished she understood the feelings that Preston seemed to evoke within her, but she didn't. She had never looked at a man and felt the same surge go through her as she felt when she looked at him. It was as if her body was possessed by something, something fighting to be set free.

When she walked into the store, the first person she saw was Helen. The other woman was standing talking to Dorothy and at first, didn't notice Rebecca's arrival.

"Well I believe that we'll be returning to Boston soon," Helen was saying, "After all, there is much to organise." Rebecca began picking up her groceries, all the time listening in to the conversation. "I mean, you can't just decide to marry without some preparation can you?"

"I guess not," Dorothy replied, "Good morning Rebecca." Helen spun on her heel and regarded Rebecca with obvious disdain.

"Good morning Dorothy, Helen. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It is," Dorothy replied.

Having made the greeting, Rebecca turned back to selecting her purchases but became all too aware of someone standing close behind her. Turning her head slightly, she saw that it was Helen.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, as neutrally as possible.

"No," Helen replied, "I believe I have managed to rectify the situation myself."

"And what situation might that be?"

"You know full well," Helen hissed.

"I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Rebecca moved towards another shelf. Helen moved also, so that she was between Rebecca and the goods.

"You believe that you have beaten me, don't you?" she said. "You believe that he will honestly prefer you to me, well I'm afraid that you are mistaken."

"Helen," Rebecca began, trying to keep her temper, "I can assure you that there is nothing between Preston and myself. From what I've heard, any breakdown in your relationship appears to have taken place long before he ever met me."

Helen's face took on a look of shock, "Has he discussed this with you?"

Rebecca cursed herself for being so stupid, "Not exactly…"

"Well clearly he has if you think yourself qualified to offer an opinion." She drew herself up, "I've done exactly the right thing in doing what I have done."

"And what have you done?"

"I've told his father. Preston Senior will put a stop to this, believe me." She leant in close, "I shall be Mrs Lodge before the year is out and you can go back to being the impoverished farm girl that you are." With that, she swept out of the store, leaving Rebecca with her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

XXXX

It was later the following afternoon when Rebecca saw Preston again. She had gone down to the station to send some telegrams when she noticed him preparing to board the train. He didn't see her at first, so busy was he loading luggage into the storage compartment, but when he turned and saw her standing watching, he hurried up to her.

"Good afternoon Rebecca."

"Good afternoon," she returned the greeting, "Are you going somewhere?"

"Boston."

She felt her heart sink, "Boston?"

He nodded, "I've been summoned by my father." He handed her the telegram.

She scanned it quickly and then looked up, "I hope there's nothing wrong," she said, "no-one is ill are they?"

"No, not as far as I know," he replied, "I rather fear that it has more to do with Helen. I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't taken it upon herself to wire my father and tell him all sorts of fantastic stories about what is going on out here."

"You mean about what she perceives is happening between us?"

"Precisely."

"Oh…" Rebecca looked away, "Well, I'm sorry to be the cause of such embarrassment, especially when there is nothing going on. Perhaps though, by confronting the situation like this, it can be resolved."

"I hope so," he replied, "I also hope that when she returns to Boston, Helen remembers precisely why she loves the city so much and decides to remain there."

"Oh, is she accompanying you back?" Rebecca turned around and caught sight of Helen swiftly approaching.

"I'm afraid so."

"There you are Preston!" Helen exclaimed, "Hurry up, the train is about to leave!"

"Yes, yes," he replied impatiently.

"What do you think, Rebecca?" Helen said, "I've managed to persuade him to go back to the city with me. An impossible task you might have believed."

"Not at all," Rebecca forced a smile. "I hope you both have a pleasant journey."

"That's very kind of you, Rebecca, thank you," Helen gave her a false smile as the guard's whistle blew, "Preston…"

"I'll be there in a minute," he said. Scowling, she walked away towards the door.

"You won't know how long you'll be away then," Rebecca said, once Helen was out of earshot.

"A week, perhaps two. Hopefully no longer," he replied, "the sooner I can get away, the better."

Rebecca smiled, "Perhaps you'll get home and realise that Boston is where you want to be after all."

He looked at her so intently that she felt herself redden again, "Believe me, I won't." The whistle blew again, "I must go." He paused, "Promise me that you'll take care of yourself while I'm gone."

"In what way do you think I wouldn't?" she asked, taken aback by his concern.

"Just don't…" he seemed to be unable to find the words he was looking for, "don't work too hard on the farm. It's not worth risking your health for. We can always work something out. Financially, I mean."

"You should go, or you'll miss the train," Rebecca said.

"Yes I should. Goodbye Rebecca."

"Goodbye Preston." She watched as he hurried to get on board and then stood as the train pulled out of the station, heading back towards Denver and then onto Boston. She waited until it was completely out of sight and then turned back towards town, surprised by just how empty she felt.


	11. Chapter 11

**Boston**

Preston had only been back in Boston a few minutes before he was homesick for Colorado Springs. The train journey, which in total had lasted more than three days, had been sheer hell. From the moment he stepped on board with Helen until the moment they disembarked she had done nothing but chatter in his ear. He presumed it was her way of trying to remind him what he was missing by casting her adrift but in reality, it only served to reinforce his opinion that his initial decision had been correct. He had listened to as much as he could bear whilst keeping his temper, but it was only as they were nearing their final destination that Helen let slip precisely the purpose of their visit home.

"I'm sure your father will make you see sense, Preston," she said quite suddenly.

"See sense about what?" he asked wearily.

"About this foolish notion you have that we aren't to be married."

He looked at her, "What?"

"Come Preston," she chided him, "You didn't think your father would just sit back and let you throw your life away on some country girl, did you? Not when the Lodge empire is at stake!"

"What exactly have you done?" he demanded, anxiety rising inside him at the thought that he may have been correct in his assumption of her actions.

"I merely wired and told him that there was an…unsuitable alliance being formed in town and that you were threatening not to carry through on your promise to me." She looked at him triumphantly. "I take it from his hasty response to you, and your even hastier return to Boston, that he isn't best pleased at the notion."

If he had been any less of a man, Preston knew he would have struck her right then and there. Anything to have seen the supercilious look removed from her face. Instead, he sat in pained silence for the rest of the journey and refused to engage her in any further conversation until they reached Boston.

As they disembarked, Preston was struck by how noisy the city was. People hurrying about here and there, the roar of the trains and the smoke. He had forgotten how different it was from the wide open spaces of Colorado. He helped Helen down from the train, albeit reluctantly, and was looking around for a porter when he heard someone shouting his name and, turning, saw two of his brothers, James and Henry, hurrying towards them.

"Preston!" James greeted him with a strong thump on the back, "It's good to have you back!"

"Good to be back," Preston replied once recovered.

"And Helen, you're looking lovely as always," James kissed her hand.

"James, you really are terrible," Helen giggled, "And Henry! My, haven't you gotten even more handsome since I last saw you!"

"I trust the journey was pleasant?" James addressed his brother again.

"As well as could be expected," Preston replied.

James nodded, taking his meaning, "Well, we'd best get you back to the house. Father and Mother and the others are all waiting. Louisa is dying to hear what you thought about Colorado, Helen."

"Dear Louisa," Helen said, "I'll be most happy to see her again." She allowed James to take her arm as they made their way out of the station.

"Congratulations," Henry muttered as they walked a few paces behind.

"On what?" Preston asked.

"On putting Father in the foulest mood since I can't remember when."

XXXX

The Lodge's lived in a very upmarket part of the city in a beautiful house, set back slightly from the street. With all of their family now grown and left home, it might have appeared too large for only two people, but Preston Senior absolutely refused to move to anything smaller, citing the fact that when the family came to stay, they would need all the space they had.

As he stood at the foot of the steps leading up to the front door, Preston couldn't help feeling slightly nervous at the prospect of seeing his father again, especially if he was rather perturbed about the current state of affairs between himself and Helen. Oh, he knew his father was too much of a gentleman to raise the matter in front of the others, but Preston also knew that later that evening, he would be sure to get a grilling.

James barrelled his way into the house first, followed by Helen and then Henry and Preston trailing behind. Immediately they stepped inside, their mother Alice appeared from the drawing room and enveloped them all in tight embraces. She saved her tightest for her youngest son.

"Preston!" she embraced him warmly, "it's so good to have you home again."

"It's good to be home Mother," he replied, "I trust you're well."

"Of course my dear," she replied, "all the better for seeing you. And dear Helen of course!" She hugged the other woman, "You've been away so long we were afraid we might never see you again!"

"It took some persuading to bring him back," Helen advised, "but I managed it."

"So you did!" Alice exclaimed, "Please, go into the drawing room. The others are all waiting." Preston hung back as Helen, James and Henry made their way into the drawing room where his other two brothers and assorted wives were clearly waiting. Alice waited back too, taking her son's arm and turning him to face her. "Your father will want to speak to you privately later."

"I had feared as much," he replied honestly.

She looked at him sympathetically, "Whatever has happened to you in that little town of yours, Preston, you must remember to honour the commitments you made here in Boston."

"Even if those commitments no longer make me happy?" he looked at her for confirmation. She didn't reply, choosing instead to propel him into the drawing room where he spent the next few minutes greeting the others and being drawn into discussion about what kind of town Colorado Springs was. He answered their questions as best he could, always aware of Helen's steely gaze from across the room.

Shortly thereafter, the maid indicated that dinner was ready and the assembled party made their way into the dining room. Preston found himself sat next to Helen and could sense her triumph coming off her in waves. A few moments later, his father came in to join them. Preston immediately got to his feet. "It's good to see you again Father," he held out his hand.

Preston Senior shook it calmly, "And you. We have much to discuss."

No further mention was made of this discussion until after the meal was over and everyone retired back to the drawing room. Preston Senior took his son to one side and requested he join him in the library for a brandy.

Dutifully, Preston agreed and followed his father into the room where he invariably spent most of his time when he wasn't at the bank. The walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of books. He used to wonder if his father had ever read them all.

"Your journey wasn't too tiring?" Preston Senior asked, passing his son a glass.

"I had forgotten just how long it was," Preston replied. "I am tired but…"

"We must discuss the current situation, Preston," Preston Senior interrupted, "this uncertainly cannot go on."

"I'm not sure I know to what uncertainty you refer."

"Oh come now, let's not be coy. I'm referring to the situation between yourself and Miss Draper."

Preston put his glass down on the table. "Father, I believe I made my feelings known on that subject before I left home. I no longer love Miss Draper and have no wish to marry her."

"And I believe I told you that happiness had little to do with it," Preston Senior replied, "Marriages have been built on less and have survived."

"Do you use yourself and Mother as an example?" Preston asked.

"If you are asking if I was blissfully happy when we married then the answer is no. But given that we have raised five sons over the last forty years I don't believe you could say that the marriage has been a failure."

"And that is what you would advocate?" Preston pressed, "A marriage without love?"

"I love your mother very much, Preston. I have no doubt that you will come to feel the same way about Miss Draper given time."

Preston shook his head, "I will never love her enough to marry her. I've come to realise that I never have."

Preston Senior put down his glass and eyed his son critically, "Would this sudden and definite change of heart have anything to do with a certain young farmer's daughter?"

Preston looked away, "I don't know what Helen has told you…"

"She seemed very concerned in her telegram about the bourgeoning relationship between yourself and a Miss McKendrick. A woman of, admittedly, relatively good breeding on her mother's side, but on her father's…" Preston didn't respond. "Surely you can see that any such match would be ill-fated."

"More ill-fated than my marrying Helen?"

Preston Senior looked sternly at his son. "So it's true."

"There is no such relationship," Preston said.

"Miss Draper seemed to think otherwise."

"I assure you she's mistaken," he reiterated, although even as he spoke he could picture Rebecca in his mind's eye.

His father looked at him for a long moment, almost as if he were reading his thoughts. "Preston, I indulged your wish to open a branch of my bank in that town on the understanding that you would be level-headed about the situation. I assumed that once opened you would leave it in someone else's capable hands and come back to Boston to honour your commitment to Miss Draper. Clearly, however, your head has been turned by some local beauty with neither the wealth nor the connections to be considered a good match. I will _not_ have my son garner the reputation as a man who makes promises lightly. You will close the bank and return home immediately."

Preston looked at his father agog, "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. The sooner you and Miss Draper are married the less likelihood there is of any gossip starting. This is the wish of Mr and Mrs Draper also. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how concerned they have been about all of this. I have had to give them many reassurances over the last few months. Miss Draper is their only daughter. You must see that it's the only way."

"And if I refuse to close the bank and come home? If I refuse to marry Miss Draper?"

"Then I shall have no choice but to remove you from the managing board of the bank. Then you will have no authority and I will close the bank anyway."

"You wouldn't."

"Do you consider me incapable?"

"No, but…" There was a knock at the door and James put his head in.

"Father, Mother's looking for you."

"I'll be right there." Preston Senior turned back to his son, "Think on it, son. I'm sure you'll see it's the only solution." With that, he left the library leaving Preston alone to digest the ultimatum he had just been given.

XXXX

**Colorado Springs**

"What are you going to wear to the sweetheart's dance?" Colleen asked Rebecca as they came out of the clinic on Saturday morning. The latter had been for a check up with Michaela who had proclaimed that the increased dosage of digitalis appeared to be working. Rebecca had had no more attacks and indeed was feeling quite well, despite an unfamiliar aching inside that she couldn't put a name to.

"I'm not sure," she replied, "I have a very nice green dress that I haven't worn very often. Perhaps I'll wear that."

"I wish I was going." Colleen bit her lip. "Are you and Matthew going to get married?"

Rebecca stopped in her tracks and turned to face the younger girl, "Whatever makes you think that?"

"Well, you're going to the dance with him and you spend a lot of time together. I just thought that…"

"We're not getting married, Colleen, I assure you. Matthew and I are just friends."

"But you're going to the dance with him," she repeated.

"As friends," Rebecca emphasised. "Besides, even if there was anything remotely between us, I don't believe Matthew's ready to place affection on anyone else yet. Not so soon after Ingrid's death."

"I know he likes you."

"I know he does too, but he's still grieving. In time, he'll find the right woman for himself. That woman just isn't me." As they continued to walk, Rebecca found her gaze straying to the closed door of the bank. Preston had been gone now for four days and with each passing day, she had felt the inexplicable ache grow stronger.

"Preston's been gone a while," Colleen observed innocently, "do you think he'll come back?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Rebecca asked quickly, "he's got a business to run here."

"Maybe he'll like Boston better. Maybe he'll marry Miss Draper and stay there."

That thought alone made Rebecca's insides go cold. The thought that she might receive news from Boston of their marriage and his decision to stay there. Or even worse, that they might return to town together wed. It filled her with a sensation that she had never felt before, feelings that she had never had, a fear…

"Oh Lord," she whispered.

"What is it?" Colleen asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine," Rebecca replied. But she knew she wasn't. She had just had a realisation so strong and so unexpected that it took her breath away. The ache in her gut that she hadn't been able to place, the emptiness that she had felt watching the train pull out of the station taking him with it…it all began to make sense in the clearest possible way. Yet, how could she be sure? She had never felt this way before, had nothing to compare it to and yet…it seemed obvious.

Against her better judgement, against all reason and expectation, Rebecca McKendrick was in love with Preston A. Lodge III.


	12. Chapter 12

**It's heating up! Hope you're still enjoying it. Thanks for the reviews!!**

**Colorado Springs**

Armed with her new found realisation, Rebecca didn't know what to do with it.

She and Colleen had shortly parted company, the former using the excuse that she had things to do at the farm before getting ready to attend the dance. Instead, she had wandered down to the telegraph office and hovered around the hatch, her mind twisting this way and that.

"Anythin' I can do for you Rebecca?" Horace asked after she had paced back and forth for at least five minutes.

She hadn't known how to respond. Should she send a telegram to Boston confessing her feelings? On the one hand, it seemed like a sensible idea, the right thing to do. If you love someone, you should tell them. That was always the mantra she had followed, despite never having had to _actually_ follow it before. It seemed perfectly logical to wire Preston and tell him how she felt. On the other hand, she would feel incredibly foolish if he and Helen were indeed reconciled and planning to marry, especially if they returned to Colorado Springs. In all honesty, she wasn't sure she would be able to ever look either of them in the eye again.

In the end, fear won out. "No thank you Horace," she had replied, "I was just…pondering."

"Ponderin' what?"

"Nothing," she said, "nothing at all." Then she had gone home to the farm, all the while distracted by how she felt and what she should do about it. She had mindlessly and unnecessarily cleaned the farmhouse until every surface gleaned and she was exhausted from the effort. When she sat down to rest, her mind immediately strayed right back to Preston. When had these feelings started? She tried hard to remember. It certainly hadn't been the first day she walked into the bank, full of indignation at his letter. If it had, she wouldn't have insisted he refer to her by her full name. Replaying events over in her mind, she came to the conclusion that it had been his kindness when he had found her unconscious in the road. At that point, he had ceased to be the local banker trying to take away her home and had become a friend, someone who was concerned with her wellbeing. She remembered how she had felt when he had looked at her, when he had touched her, accidentally or otherwise. She remembered blushing to the roots of her hair imagining what it would be like to be in his arms…Even with that, she had never expected those feelings and felt herself taken quite unawares.

"Oh Lord the time!" She glanced at the clock and realised that Matthew would be arriving to pick her up for the dance in less than an hour. Frantically, she rummaged through her clothes trying to find the perfect dress. She decided to wear the green one that she had described to Colleen. It clung generously to her figure and the neckline was suitably scooped to attract the right sort of attention without making her look as though she was touting for business. As she admired herself in the mirror she suddenly remembered that Preston wouldn't be there to see her in it. He wouldn't be there to appreciate the generous way it hugged her waist or exposed her décolletage. She wouldn't be able to experience dancing with him, being close to him…

"What are you thinking Rebecca McKendrick?!" she scolded herself out loud. "You can't think like this! You just can't!" Embarrassment as the intensity of her thoughts overcame her, followed swiftly thereafter by the cold hand of reality. "You know you can't fall in love," she told her reflection, "It wouldn't be fair on either of you, you know that." Perhaps that was why she was happy to be attending the dance with Matthew, because there was no danger of anything happening between them, no risk of her having to confess her secret. Perhaps it would be best if Preston did remain in Boston. Then she wouldn't have to torture herself with the thought of what could never be.

As all these thoughts rolled around in her head, competing for her attention, she heard the sound of horses and, moving to the window, she saw Matthew approaching in the wagon. As he climbed down, she couldn't help noticing how handsome he looked, and he had brought her flowers.

"The way to a woman's heart," she joked, opening the door, "Matthew, they're beautiful."

"It don't mean nothing," he reassured her, handing them over, "but I can't take you to the dance without bringin' you somethin'."

"It's very sweet of you, thank you." She stepped back into the kitchen to place them in some water. "And you look very dashing Sheriff, I must say."

"You look pretty good yourself," he replied, admiring her dress, "You and Doctor Mike are gonna be the prettiest ladies there."

Rebecca twirled for him mockingly, "Why thank you kind sir," she joked. They left the house and Matthew helped her into the wagon. It was a still evening, the sun beginning to go down and almost no wind. The perfect weather for a dance. As they made their way back towards town, Matthew started talking, but Rebecca found she wasn't listening. She was thinking again about Preston. What he would be doing, who he would be doing it with…she couldn't help a stab of envy go through her as she thought about Helen. They were probably laughing and joking together, delighted to be back in such familiar surroundings. He probably hadn't given her a thought since he left town.

"You listenin?" Matthew broke into her reverie.

"What?" she glanced round.

"You were miles away."

"Sorry," she said, "just thinking."

"Bout what?"

"The farm," she lied, "my deadline. Only another three weeks to go."

"Got every confidence in you, Rebecca," Matthew remarked, "if anyone can make it work, you can."

She patted his arm, "Thank you Matthew. I appreciate your support." As they neared their destination, she forced Preston to the back of her mind. There was nothing worse than spending time dreaming about something, or someone, that you could never have. But she couldn't help the longing.

XXXX

**Boston**

For the well-to-do in Boston, Saturday night was the evening when they descended en masse on the latest playhouse or restaurant to mingle with their own kind. To allow the men to do a little business and the women to discuss the latest fashions. Preston quickly realised that he was not going to be permitted to absent himself from this as his mother gleefully announced over breakfast that they would all be attending the new production of Madame Butterfly that evening.

"I mentioned it to Helen last night," she said to him, "She seemed very excited by it. A few weeks without any culture and the poor child is crying out for some entertainment. She and her parents will come here first for dinner and we will then all go together." Preston had merely forced a smile onto his face and continued eating.

The morning was spent at his father's main bank headquarters. Preston Senior seemed to think that by taking his son there he would help him make what he considered to be the obvious decision. They toured the bank speaking to various employees and investors and although Preston smiled and made small talk as he knew he was supposed to, his heart wasn't in it. If he was being honest, his heart wasn't even in Boston. It was in a small town back west.

At lunch he and his father met up with the youngest of his elder brothers, Peter, at one of Boston's most exclusive restaurants. It took them a good ten minutes to walk the short distance to their table as numerous people stopped to engage Preston Senior in conversation.

"So," Peter said as he and Preston stood slightly back from the current conversation raging between their father and Frederick Brown, a fellow banker, "what's she like?"

"What's who like?"

"The little farm girl you've rejected Helen for."

Preston glared at his brother, "She is not 'a little farm girl'" he replied.

"So you know to whom I'm referring then."

"There is nothing between us."

"Of course there isn't," Peter smirked, "you can tell me the truth, Preston."

"I just did."

"Oh come on!" Peter leaned in closer, "I've heard about women in these frontier towns. The minute a rich man comes to town they're all over them like bees in a honey pot."

Preston fought to keep his temper, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Thankfully, he was prevented from listening to any more of his youngest brother's pearls of wisdom by his father finishing his conversation and them continuing their journey to the table.

Once seated, Peter, who seemed intent on continuing to badger his younger brother said, "I understand the Drapers are joining us for dinner this evening prior to the opera."

"That's right," Preston Senior replied.

"It'll be good once they become proper family," Peter continued, "have you and Helen discussed a wedding date yet, Preston?"

Preston kept his eyes on his menu, "No."

"You had better hurry up. All the best places will be booked up soon."

"They have time," Preston Senior said, "besides, I'm sure that anywhere in the city would be prepared to accommodate a Lodge."

"I must say that Mary and I have found this first year of marriage quite pleasant," Peter remarked, "we've been to so many balls and parties I've found the whole thing quite fatiguing."

"Yes well," Preston said, "there's more to life than balls and parties."

"Such as?"

"Work. Which you seem to have spent the last thirty-five years doing your utmost to avoid."

"Now, now Preston," their father said mildly, "I don't want to have to referee a boxing match in here."

Peter's face flamed with embarrassment. "At least I'm not trying to bring the family name into disrepute by lavishing my affections on some whore from Colorado," he hissed.

"How dare you…!" Preston raged, getting to his feet.

"Preston!" Preston Senior looked hard at his son. "Sit back down."

"No thank you Father," Preston replied, continuing to glare at his brother. "I've rather lost my appetite." He left the restaurant and spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets of his hometown, compounding his anger with every footstep, his thoughts taken up only with Rebecca, until he felt quite exhausted. Returning to the house just before dinner, he was met at the door by his mother.

"Preston, where have you been?" she demanded. "Your father came home in a terrible temper with some story of you storming out of the restaurant!"

"It's not a story, Mother," he informed her, "it's quite true. I couldn't stand to spend another moment at the table with Peter after the venom he had spewed about Rebecca."

"Rebecca?" she looked at him, "is this the young lady in Colorado Springs?"

Preston caught himself, "She is a customer of the bank. A woman I admire very much. She returned to town from Boston to save her father's farm and she is doing a remarkable job whilst suffering ill health." He found his mind straying to her. "She is…"

"Preston," Alice said, her voice low, "you must listen to your father. He told me of the choice he gave you and I'm inclined to agree with him that you should close the bank in Colorado, return to Boston and marry Helen as soon as possible."

He shook his head, "I can't."

"You have been at pains to emphasise that there is nothing between you and this Rebecca. If that is indeed the case then what is to stop you from doing as your father asks?" He was prevented from answering by the doorbell ringing loudly behind them. "That will be the Drapers," Alice concluded. "Go and wash up, Preston, now."

Obediently, he climbed the stairs to his room as if he were ten years old. As he washed and changed, he could hear the sound of voices coming from downstairs, Helen's loudest of all. When he appeared at the door of the drawing room, she hurried over to greet him. "Preston, where have you been?" her tone was light but her implication clear. "Father, here he is!"

Preston found himself face to face with Albert Draper, a tall, imposing man who looked as though he would like nothing more than to punch Preston in the face. "Preston, at last," he remarked, "I see you've decided to put in an appearance this evening."

"I apologise for my tardiness, sir," Preston replied.

"Yes well….at least you're back in town. That is at least something. We can now get down to the important business."

"Business?"

"Oh Preston!" Helen giggled, "Father means the wedding of course!"

"I was speaking with your father earlier and we think January 14th. It is, admittedly, soon after Christmas but far enough away to allow the relevant plans to be made. And I believe it's high time these things get organised after so much…passing time."

Preston glanced at Helen who was grinning inanely at him. "I think it's a perfect idea," she enthused, "with a winter wedding I can have one of those dresses made with the fur collars. They're all the fashion. Sally Queenlee had one last year and people were talking about it for months afterwards!"

Dinner was immediately called and Preston found himself propelled into the dining room and sat between Helen and James. As everyone took their seats, the latter leaned over, "Sooner rather than later, Preston."

Preston looked at his brother, "What?"

"Do it sooner rather than later," James repeated.

"I don't…"

"For heavens sake, man! Be true to yourself. You only have one shot at life and I would hate to see you waste it on Helen when your heart quite clearly lies elsewhere. Remember," he glanced at his wife Louisa sat opposite, "I almost fell into that trap myself."

"Which of your brothers are you thinking of for best man, Preston?" Jennifer Draper asked, "I've quite lost track over the last few years over who has acted for whom?"

"Mother, you know Preston has always gotten on best with James," Helen replied. "I would imagine that he would be first choice. Isn't that right, Preston?"

Preston felt all eyes on him and it was as if their collective gazes were sucking all of the air out of the room. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though he were being suffocated by the weight of responsibility. The choice he had been given was stark: leave Colorado Springs, marry Helen and return to Boston or lose his bank. Banking was in his blood. It was all he had ever wanted to do. Going to Colorado Springs had seemed foolhardy to many, but at least he had been continuing in the profession he loved. Coming back to Boston permanently would mean that he could continue to do that albeit under his father's watchful gaze. He may even, one day, take over the running of the main headquarters. At one time, that would have been his every wish fulfilled.

But now…now it was so different. Now his every waking moment wasn't taken up with thinking about figures and investments and interest rates. It wasn't about polite Boston society, playhouses, operas and fancy restaurants. It wasn't about marrying a suitable Bostonian woman and having a suitable Bostonian family. If he hadn't been able to admit it before, he found he had to admit it now. His every thought, since arriving in Boston and even before leaving Colorado Springs, had been of one thing, one person…

"Rebecca." He didn't realise he had said her name out loud until he saw fury begin to overtake Helen's face.

"I'm sorry, Preston," Jennifer said obliviously, "What was that?"

James nudged him hard in the ribs, encouraging him on. "I said…" he faltered slightly, "I said, Rebecca." He looked at his father who looked shocked. "I'm sorry," he got to his feet, "I'm sorry to let everyone down but I can't continue on like this any longer. I can't continue living a lie. I have tried hard not to hurt anyone," he glanced at Helen, "but I fear that I can't succeed."

"Preston, sit down," Helen urged, "you…you don't know what you're saying."

"Helen, you are a beautiful, charming, talented woman," he told her, "and any man would be proud to marry you and build a life with you, but…but I'm afraid that man isn't me. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart and I'm afraid mine belongs to someone else. I want to release you from your obligation to me and allow you to make a life with someone far more deserving of your love."

"Preston," his father stood up, "I'd like to speak with you privately."

"Father, I must apologise to both you and Mother. And to Mr and Mrs Draper," he glanced at Helen's parents who looked incredulous, "I know that you all would wish nothing more than for me to return to Boston permanently and marry Helen but then I would only be doing what you wanted and it would ultimately make no-one happy, least of all," he turned to Albert, "your daughter."

Albert got to his feet, "Lodge, I won't have this!" he thundered, "You are betrothed to my daughter and you will honour that betrothal!"

"I don't love your daughter, sir," Preston said, buoyed by the adrenaline coursing through him. "I haven't for a long time and it was wrong of me not to end the relationship long ago. I love someone back in Colorado and…and I know now that I've been away from her too long already." He looked squarely at his father, "If you wish to close the bank in Colorado Springs, Father, I have no power to stop you. But doing it won't change my mind and, if needs be, I'll find a way to start my own bank. All that is secondary, however, to my returning to Colorado Springs immediately, because right now…" He looked at James who was grinning at him, "I need to see Rebecca."

With that, he walked away from the table and into the hallway where he paused to catch his breath. He was swiftly followed by his father and, in turn, James.

"Preston you will go back in there and apologise immediately for that outburst!" Preston Senior demanded.

"Father, leave him be," James said.

"I can't, Father, I'm sorry." Preston turned for the stairs, "I have to pack."

"You think that I wasn't serious before?" his father shouted, "I will close that bank, Preston, I mean it!"

Preston turned back to look at him, "I'm sure you do, Father, and I'm sure you will. But right now, I have to go home." He hurried up the stairs, leaving his father and brother to argue at the bottom. Throwing open the bedroom door he pulled out his suitcase and began throwing things in. If he was right, there would be a train leaving for Denver in an hour. He could be back in Colorado Springs by the beginning of the week. "Rebecca…" he breathed her name again, thinking about how when he saw her again he was going to take her in his arms and tell her that Helen had been right all along.

His heart was hers and it overflowed with love.


	13. Chapter 13

**Keep those reviews coming!!**

"Rebecca!"

"Jack!" Rebecca hurried forward to greet the older man who had just descended from the train. It was Monday morning and the start of a new week.

He enveloped her in a bear hug, "My how you've grown up." He then held her away from him and admired her, "You look just like yer Ma did when she was your age. It's like…like looking back in time."

Rebecca smiled at her godfather, "It's so good to see you again. It's been too long."

"And whose fault is that?" he wagged his finger affectionately at her, "I ain't the one whose been hiding away in Boston all these years."

"I know," she ducked her head, "I'm sorry. I should have come back home more often. Then perhaps I wouldn't be in this mess." She sighed heavily and looked at him, "I'm so glad you're here."

"What are godfathers for if not to help their goddaughters out in times of need?" Jack said, "So, how bad is the farm?"

"Better than it was six weeks ago," she replied honestly, linking her arm through his and leading him towards the wagon, "I've managed to restore it to some form of normality with a lot of help from my friends…but it's the business side of things that still worries me. I only have another few weeks to pay everything back to Preston."

"Preston? That the arrogant banker you wrote me about?"

"Oh no he's not…I mean…he really isn't as black as I painted," she felt herself blushing, recalling the angry letter she had penned to Jack several weeks earlier. "In fact, he's been very good about the whole thing." Jack looked at her disbelievingly, "really he has. But I don't want to go back on a written promise. I need to have the money by the end of this month and, more than that, I need to know that I can keep bringing in the money and make the farm work."

Jack looked at her, "You may look like your mother, Rebecca, but you have Angus' steely determination." He shook his head, "Wonders will never cease."

"Will you help me?"

"Of course I will. Take me on up there and I'll figure out how best we go about making this business idea of yours work."

Rebecca grinned and allowed him to help her into the wagon. Once he was beside her, she lifted the reins and began driving out of town and towards the farm. "I don't suppose you know what happened to Henry?" she asked.

"Nope," Jack shook his head, "fact is, one day I just stopped getting his letters. I wrote and wired, but no response. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant I could have been out here long before now helping you. I should have been the one to tell you about the farm, not some banker's letter."

"It wouldn't have mattered how I'd found out," she replied, "it still would have been a shock."

"I never did like him."

"Who, Henry?"

Jack nodded, "There was something about him that I could never put my finger on. But your father thought the world of him and I never could make him see things from my point of view."

"Father was stubborn," Rebecca said, "and he always thought he was right."

"Usually he was," Jack said, "just not about this." A few moments later they were pulling up in front of the farm, "It don't look too bad."

"You should have seen it before," Rebecca said, as he helped her down, "It's made a vast improvement."

"Good size of land," Jack observed, "you should be able to get a good head of cattle in here."

"You think so?"

"Sure. I got about thirty I could let you have."

"Thirty?! I didn't think that many…I mean to start with…"

"You need to think big," Jack said, "you've got debts to pay, remember? I can have them here in a couple of days. You milk 'em and sell it. Then you sell the cattle to the slaughter, buy more cattle. That's how it works. That's how you get the farm back up and running."

"I'm not sure I could afford to pay you for thirty cattle…"

"I didn't say nothing about getting paid."

"But I have to pay you!" Rebecca exclaimed, "I can't let you just give me them!"

"I'm your godfather, Rebecca, and I'm supposed to take care of you."

"I don't need…"

"I know that!" He looked at her, "but the least I can do is help you get started. Thirty cattle, no payment, no questions asked. Deal?" He held out his hand.

Rebecca shook it, "Deal."

"Good," he clapped his hands, "now, let's see if you make tea as good as your mother did."

XXXX

By Monday evening, Preston reckoned he was two-thirds of the way home. Another two hours would see him in Denver and then, after a short overnight stop, another day would take him back to Colorado Springs and back to Rebecca.

After he had finished packing in Boston, he had slipped out of the back door, keen to avoid the shouting match that he could hear taking place in the drawing room. Albert Draper had been yelling loudest of all and he also thought he heard Helen crying. He felt guilty at having caused so many problems but, as James had pointed out, he only had one shot at life. He had to find out if that shot was to be with Rebecca.

He had thought about her the whole journey so far. It seemed as though every dark-haired woman on the train looked like her, every voice sounded like her voice. When he had slept, it had been her face he had seen in his dreams, her touch he had felt…then he had woken with a start, as if embarrassment could somehow creep its way into one's subconscious.

The weather had been somewhat intermittent. Bright Fall sunshine had bid him farewell from the city, but as the train had continued west it had been hit by high winds and the occasional rainstorm. Safe in his carriage, Preston had looked out at the lightening and the trees bending under the weight of the wind and had hoped that such weather hadn't hit Colorado.

Checking his pocket watch again, he saw that it was almost seven o'clock. The sky outside was dark and the wind whistled around the windows. The train itself was fairly quiet. There were two elderly ladies sitting in his carriage and he happened to know from taking a short walk down the passageway that the other carriages were equally as empty.

"Do you live in Denver?"

A voice from across the carriage brought him out of his reverie. Looking over, he saw one of the two elderly women looking at him intently. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you lived in Denver."

"Oh, no," he replied.

"Passing through?"

"Yes, I'm going home." The very word 'home' brought a warm feeling.

"And where might that be?" she asked, watching him from over her glasses.

"Anne, do be quiet," the other woman said, lowering the book she was reading. "Leave the young man alone. He doesn't want to be bothered with your twittering chat."

"Not at all," Preston laughed, "I don't mind. I live in a town called Colorado Springs."

"Oh yes, I've heard of it!" the woman named Anne said, "I do believe it's a very charming place."

"It is," Preston replied, "very charming."

"Have you lived there long?"

"Only a few months."

"And what do you do there?"

"Anne!" the other woman said again, "I must apologise on behalf of my sister. She is uncommonly nosy!"

"Really, it's fine," Preston reassured her, "I'm the local banker. Preston A. Lodge III." He held out his hand and Anne shook it, an impressed expression on her face.

"Anne Cleary, pleased to meet you," she said. "This old grump is my sister Nina." Nina raised her eyebrows in some form of greeting. "We're visiting our niece in Denver. She's just had a baby."

"How delightful," Preston said, "boy or girl?"

"A boy," Anne said, "Henry Willard Cleary. Isn't that a fine name?"

"A very fine name," Preston agreed.

Nina grunted, "Too fancy if you ask me."

"Well she didn't," Anne pointed out. "I'm really looking forward to seeing him. And dear Maria of course."

"Of course."

She leaned forward, "And are you returning to a wife in Colorado Springs, Preston A. Lodge III?"

"No," he replied truthfully.

"But there is someone?" Anne pressed.

"There is someone," he admitted, thinking the woman must be psychic.

Anne clapped her hands together, "Young love! And how long have you been courting?"

"Well, we're not exactly…"

"You can't ask him that!" Nina exclaimed, finally putting her book down and giving them her full attention, "that's private, Anne, you should know better!"

"He doesn't mind, do you Mr Lodge?"

"Preston," he said automatically, "and no, to be quite truthful, I don't mind a bit." Perhaps it was the realisation of his feelings for Rebecca that made him almost bursting to tell someone. "We're not courting, yet. But I hope that we soon will be. In fact," he leaned in closer as though revealing a deep secret, "I'm returning home to confess my feelings to her."

Anne gasped, "How romantic!"

"How do you think she'll respond?" Nina asked, trying to look as through she wasn't interested.

"I'm hoping that she'll welcome them," Preston replied.

"As if she could refuse a handsome young man like yourself!" Anne exclaimed. "And are you going to ask for her hand?"

"Give him a chance, Anne," Nina said. Preston paused. He hadn't quite thought that far ahead yet. His only goal so far had been to get back to town and let Rebecca know how he felt. Marriage, while the obvious next step, he hadn't yet considered. "You see?" Nina continued, "Now look what you've done. He's obviously not ready for that step yet. And why should he be? Marriage is a serious commitment."

"Said by one who has never been married herself," Anne commented wryly. She looked hard at Preston. "Well?"

He looked at her, "I suppose I shall, in time."

"Oh you mustn't wait," Anne advised, "You must do it as soon as possible, lest you run the risk of her falling into the arms of some other young gentleman."

Nina rolled her eyes, "Don't listen to her, Mr Lodge. You take your time." She reached over and patted his knee, "All in good time, all in good time."

Preston sat back in his seat and glanced out of the window. A wife. A wife and a family. It was what one did. It had been precisely what he had been planning to do with Helen. It was what was expected. He just hadn't thought that far ahead. But of course it was the perfect thing to offer. How could a man confess his feelings to a woman without giving her the promise of a future? It was exactly what he would do. He would tell Rebecca that he loved her and ask her to marry him. Then they would be married and he would run the bank and the new hotel once it got off the ground while she would stay at home and raise their many children. It would all be so simple, so straightforward, so perfect. What could possibly stand in the way?

XXXX

"And then we fell over and I nearly crushed her to death. It's a wonder she's still breathing today!" The assembled party at Grace's laughed as Loren recounted his story from the sweetheart's dance. "You're lucky she was here to meet you from the train."

This last comment was directed at Jack who laughed heartily, "She always was a menace on the dance floor, even as a child."

"Believe me I remember," Loren said, "I never could get a moment's peace at these things without Rebecca dragging me up there for another turn around the floor."

"Stop it!" Rebecca begged as she laughed, "I don't recall this evening being billed as an opportunity for everyone to comment on my shortcomings!"

"Aw I'm only teasing," Loren said.

"It was a lovely evening," Michaela said from where she was sat at the end of the table, "Wasn't it Sully?"

"Sure," Sully replied, "even though I ain't one for dancing."

"You certainly did your part, Sully," Rebecca said, "you even dared to take a turn with me."

"An experience I ain't likely to forget in a hurry." He smiled at her as Rebecca made a face at him.

"I wish I'd been there," Myra spoke up wistfully, "sounds like you all had a wonderful time."

"How is Samantha?" Michaela asked.

"She's getting better. She ain't fussing as much as she was."

"You should bring her back to the clinic tomorrow, let me take another look at her."

"I will Doctor Mike, thank you," Myra replied, "ain't like I have to go to work or anything."

"When's Preston getting back?" Sully asked.

Rebecca looked up quickly at the mention of his name and glanced over at Myra who shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know. Soon I hope. I really enjoy working there and mixing with folk…I know it ain't a really glamorous job like being a doctor or anything but…it's my job and I like it." She looked up, "I'm good at it."

"Of course you are," Michaela encouraged her. "Believe me, Myra, being a doctor is not glamorous."

Rebecca tuned out of the rest of the conversation. It didn't sound as if anyone knew what was happening with Preston, whether he would be returning to town or not. The ache began again, the one she had tried so hard to banish this last week or so. The one which gnawed at her gut and at her heart. How she longed to see him, just see him, nothing more. She didn't dare to think about more, couldn't think about more. As long as he was back in town, where she _could _see him from time to time…that would do. It was all she could ask for.


	14. Chapter 14 Preston

**Because this is a very important chapter (!)I thought I would write it firstly analysing Preston's feelings and then, in the next chapter, write exactly the same circumstances but analysing Rebecca's feelings. I hope that makes sense! Anyway, first up is Preston. I hope you enjoy it and please review!**

There was a single light burning in the window of the farmhouse. It cast a rich glow out into the dark, a welcoming, homely sight for anyone approaching. Preston sat on Thunder a few feet away from the building, watching through the window as Rebecca cleared away dishes from the dining table by the window. He watched as she gracefully moved around the kitchen, her dark hair loose and tumbling down her back, her expression serene. Every so often she would disappear from view and he would wait until he could see her again, every second feeling like an eternity.

When the train had pulled into the station, his first thought had been to go back to the bank and wait until the following morning before approaching Rebecca. But as he had stood looking at the familiar surroundings, knowing that he had effectively declared it his home, he knew that he couldn't bear one more moment in Colorado Springs without her knowing how he felt. So, he had retrieved Thunder from Robert E and made his way out to the farm, unsure what precisely he was going to say to Rebecca, but knowing that he had to say it.

Nudging Thunder forward, he rode up to the door and dismounted. Tying the horse's reins to the fencepost, he straightened his jacket and knocked on the door.

It was answered after only a few seconds. "Preston!" Rebecca stepped back slightly, a look of surprise crossing her face, a light seeming to flicker in her eyes. "I…when did you get back?"

"Just now," he replied, taking off his hat, "I hope it's not too late. May I come in?"

"Well…of course," Rebecca held the door open wider to let him enter and he stepped in past her, his body brushing against hers, causing his heart to suddenly start pounding harder. Rebecca closed the door behind him and stepped into the light. The fact that she was mere inches from him made him feel even more anxious. "I was just going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," he replied. His mouth was dry and he welcomed anything that would help. It also meant that he had time to gather himself together before saying what he had come to say. He stepped into the kitchen after her and watched as she made her way to the stove.

Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, "Please, sit down."

"Thank you." He did as she requested. "How have you been this last week?"

"Fine thank you," she replied, "There haven't been any further…incidents…for some time now."

"I'm very glad to hear it." And he was.

"How was Boston?"

"The same as always."

"Being back there didn't make you homesick?"

"Not at all," he replied, "In fact, when I was back in Boston I realised just how much busier and dirtier it is." He thought fast, trying to think of some way to bring the conversation round to what he wanted to say.

"So, did Helen come back with you?"

"No. She stayed in Boston." He took a deep breath, "I told her once and for all that it was over between us."

"Really?"

"Yes. I told my family too."

Rebecca turned around from the stove and perched on the opposite chair, "How did they react?"

"Not too well if the truth be told," he replied honestly, "but I knew that I had to do it and then James made me see…"

"James?"

"My brother. He was originally intended for Helen until he met his wife, Louisa."

"Oh yes," Rebecca said, "I remember you telling me that before." She stood up again as the kettle whistled.

"Anyway," Preston battered on, "he made me see that I had to follow my heart and not get dragged into something purely because it is what my family want."

"And your heart led you back to Colorado Springs?"

This was it. The moment. He couldn't have set it up any more perfectly. "Yes," he replied, "to Colorado Springs…and to you." He watched as she froze, her back to him, the kettle poised in mid air. She didn't move for what seemed like the longest time. Then she slowly lowered it back onto the stove, but she still didn't turn around. "Rebecca…" he got to his feet and moved over to stand behind her. She turned to face him, her blue eyes stark in her pale face. She was looking at him with a mixture of uncertainty and fear, an expression, like a child begging for protection. It only served to make him desire her more. "I know that this perhaps might come as a shock to you…" he began gently.

"My godfather was here," Rebecca said suddenly, "he came from Denver. He's going to provide me with my first head of cattle."

Preston was slightly caught off guard, "That's…that's wonderful…"

"Yes it is." Rebecca turned back around and lifted the kettle again. He saw her hand shake as she poured the liquid into two mugs so, instinctively, he reached out and placed his hand over hers. The contact made her jump and the tea spilled over onto the work surface. "Oh!" Rebecca exclaimed, "I'm so clumsy…" she grabbed a cloth from the sink and started mopping up, crouching down so that she could catch the stray liquid which was dripping down the cupboards and onto the floor.

Preston crouched next to her, "Rebecca…"

"I can't do anything right."

"Look at me." She continued in what she was doing, seemingly oblivious to what he had said, until he put his hand over hers again, stopping the movement. Rebecca didn't move. She stared at his hand covering hers, her breathing short and shallow. He tried again. "Look at me." She turned and looked at him, meeting his gaze with frightened eyes. He felt his breath catch in his throat. She was so beautiful… "Rebecca…my…my feelings for you…well I'm not sure how best to explain them, but…but I know that over these past few weeks…I've come to see you not only as a strong and very capable young woman, but as a beautiful and wonderful person."

"Preston…"

He barrelled on, "Someone whose company I enjoy. Someone…someone that I find myself thinking about all of the time. If I don't see you, I feel…empty. The entire trip to Boston, the entire time I was there I was thinking only of you. When I thought about what I would face if I married Helen compared to what I could have if I came back to you, there was no contest. You're not simply a customer of the bank or an acquaintance from town." He took a breath. "I love you. I didn't know how much until I left you, but now I know. I know that I never want to be parted from you again. I love you and…and I hope that maybe…perhaps you might…feel something for me too?"

Rebecca took her hand from his, straightened up, and moved away from him, crossing the kitchen to the far side of the table. She stood with her back to him and he slowly straightened up and stood watching her, waiting for a response yet terrified of what it might be. "I'm sorry if I've…"

She turned around quickly. "Preston, I'm…I'm flattered and surprised and…oh…so many other emotions…" She ran a hand over her eyes and then fixed her gaze at a spot on the floor.

Preston felt his heart start to slowly sink, "But?"

She met his gaze. "But?"

"You're flattered and surprised…but…?"

Rebecca sighed heavily, "Oh Preston…there's so much that you don't know about me…"

He moved quickly over and stood as close to her as he dared, eager to make her see the depth of his feelings. "And I want to find out! Don't you see? I want to get to know you better. There are so many things that I love about you already and anything else can only be a bonus."

She dipped her head, "You don't understand. You can't understand."

"But I want to. Can't you see that I want to?" He gently placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back to look at him. He expected her to shy away but she didn't. She looked him in the eye and he could feel his stomach drop. It was now or never. "Rebecca…" he cupped her face with his hand and lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and warm against his own and, in the instant that they made contact, he felt a shiver of desire stab him in the gut. He would have liked nothing more than to wrap her in his arms, crush her to him and…well…he recognised the inappropriateness of those thoughts and instead, pulled slowly back from her. When he opened his eyes, he saw that her face was flushed and, when she opened hers, tears glistened at the corners. He instantly felt concerned that he had gone too far. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to upset you. I would never want to…"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head, "no it's not…it's not that. It's…you haven't upset me. I just…"

"What?"

She met his gaze again, "I just can't believe that…I thought that when you went back to Boston that I had lost you forever." Her statement brought him up short and he looked at her questioningly. "I was afraid that you would decide you wanted to stay there and marry Helen. Or worse, that you might bring her back here as your wife. I knew that I wouldn't be able to stand that when I felt…when I knew that I…I loved you."

Preston was stunned. Despite his hope that she might harbour some feeling for him, he hadn't expected her to profess love to him. "You…you do?"

Rebecca nodded, "Yes. I realised it after you had gone. When I had this ache inside and I didn't know why because I've never loved any man, ever, and then it just seemed so obvious and I…I knew then and I thought that if I could just see you again, even just see you, it could be enough for me but…but now I know that it never would have been and…oh Lord…" she put her hand over her mouth, "I can't believe…"

Preston didn't wait to let her finish. With all sense of appropriateness or otherwise flying out of the window, he stepped forward, took her in his arms and held her to him, breathing in the floral scent of her perfume, his heart feeling as though it was going to burst with happiness. Then, pulling back, he kissed her again, passionately this time, holding nothing back. This time he felt her respond more freely. Her arms slipped around his neck, she pressed herself to him and, in a moment of sheer reckless abandon, he lifted her off of the ground and spun her round before putting her back down. When they broke free from each other, they were both breathing heavily.

"Well," he said, "I'm very glad I decided to come back."

Rebecca laughed, "So am I."

Mindful of the discussion he had had on the train with Anne and Nina, Preston chose his next question carefully. "Would you consent to having lunch with me at the café tomorrow afternoon?"

"Seeing as I've turned you down so many other times, it would only seem fair to accept on this occasion," Rebecca replied with a smile.

"Splendid. You can tell me more about your godfather and this herd of cattle you mentioned earlier."

"Business as usual?"

"No," he replied, "no, not at all. Not any more." He took her hands in his, "We can talk about everything tomorrow but, I fear I may have tired you sufficiently this evening." If he was being honest, the last thing he wanted to do was leave but, despite the happiness which she appeared to be radiating, he couldn't help noticing how pale her expression was. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause her any illness.

"It's been somewhat of an eventful evening," she admitted. "But I'm very glad you came here this evening, Preston."

"So am I." He stepped forward and kissed her again. "Tomorrow. Grace's at twelve?"

Rebecca nodded. "I'll be there." She followed him to the door and held it open for him. "Goodnight Preston."

"Goodnight Rebecca," he replied before stepping back out into the dark. Unhooking Thunder's reins, he mounted and turned to head back to town. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her framed in the doorway, watching him and he felt his heart sing inside. Nudging Thunder into a trot he made his way back to town already deciding that he would let the initial surprise and shock calm down for a day or two and then he would ask her to be his wife. Given her response to his declaration, he was in absolutely no doubt that she would accept. And he knew exactly where to find the perfect engagement ring.

The town was quiet when he rode in. He took Thunder to the livery and then made his way to the bank. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and lit the lamp. Everything in it was the same as when he had left it. Nothing had changed and yet so much had. Preston climbed the stairs to his room and quickly got ready for bed. Then he lay, looking at the ceiling, unable to sleep, replaying those three magical kisses with Rebecca over and over in his mind. The expression on her face, the heat of her body against his, the way she felt in his arms…they would marry as soon as possible. He didn't know how long he could wait but he knew he didn't want it to be long. Perhaps even by Christmas. And then there was the farm. Even although it would pass to him on their marriage, he would never dream of taking it from her. If she was minded to keep it for herself, then of course he would rip up their loan agreement and let her have as long as she needed to pay the bank back or he would buy it for her. That seemed like the most sensible option.

The bank. His father's words came back to him…_I will close that bank, Preston, I mean it…_Let him do it, Preston thought to himself. He had enough contacts to be able to start again for himself. Besides, the bank was secondary. Nothing else mattered right now save for his love for Rebecca and their future as man and wife. With that thought in his mind, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.


	15. Chapter 15 Rebecca

**Here's Rebecca's side!**

It was after seven before Jack left the farm. Rebecca had invited him to stay for dinner and the older man had agreed. They had spent the evening reminiscing about the old days and when Rebecca had been young. They talked about her father and Jack relayed stories about her mother, stories Rebecca had heard so many times before, but never tired listening to. It was only through the memories of other people that she really felt she knew her mother.

When Jack left, he explained that he would stay at the boarding house that night and catch the morning train back to Denver. He would then arrange to have the cattle driven to Colorado Springs and advised her that she should be in possession of them by the end of the week. Rebecca couldn't thank him enough for his kindness and, as she waved him away, couldn't help thinking that this was the start of the road to the farm's recovery. 

She cleared away the dishes, thinking about how she would take things forward. She wasn't planning on wasting the opportunity Jack had presented her. It was exactly what she needed to be able to get the money to pay off the loan arrears. She was so lost in thought as she tidied the kitchen that when a knock sounded on the door, it made her jump. Thinking it was Jack, having forgotten to tell her something or even left something behind, she hurried to answer it. When she opened it, she found herself face to face with the person she had longed to see for so many days.

"Preston!" she exclaimed, stepping back, unable to believe he was actually in front of her. "I…when did you get back?"

"Just now," he replied, taking off his hat. "I hope it's not too late. May I come in?"

Being so close to him, Rebecca found her heart thumping wildly in her chest. "Well…of course," she stepped back and held the door open wider for him. As he entered, he brushed against her, causing delicious shivers to course through her. She closed the door and stepped towards him. What should she say? "I was just going to make some tea." It was the first thought to pop into her head. "Would you like some?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," he replied. 

Rebecca stepped past him into the kitchen and hurried over to the stove, all too aware of his presence behind her in the room. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him hovering by the table. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you." She heard the scrape of a chair on the stone floor and she busied herself with preparing the water. "How have you been this week?"

She was touched that he was concerned for her wellbeing. "Fine thank you," she replied, her back still turned, "There haven't been any further…incidents…for some time now." _Thank God,_ she thought inwardly.

"I'm very glad to hear it."

"How was Boston?" Rebecca was keen to know exactly what had happened, yet she didn't want to appear too eager for the details.

"The same as always."

"Being back there didn't make you homesick?"

"Not at all. In fact, when I was back in Boston I realised just how much busier and dirtier it is." 

This all sounded promising so far. "So, did Helen come back with you?" Rebecca found herself holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

"No. She stayed in Boston. I told her once and for all that it was over between us."

Rebecca felt her insides begin to churn with excitement. "Really?"

"Yes. I told my family too."

At this, she turned around and gingerly perched on the opposite chair. She watched him, trying to gauge if there was any giveaway in his expression that he either knew how she felt or indeed felt the same. "How did they react?"

"Not too well if the truth be told, but I knew that I had to do it and then James made me see…"

"James?"

"My brother. He was originally intended for Helen until he met his wife, Louisa."

Rebecca's mind flashed back to the conversation they had had in the bank after Helen had told her she believed Preston to be in love with her. "Oh yes," she said, "I remember you telling me that before." The kettle whistled and she stood up quickly to attend to it.

"Anyway," Preston continued behind her, "he made me see that I had to follow my heart and not get dragged into something purely because it is what my family want."

"And your heart led you back to Colorado Springs?"

"Yes," he replied, "to Colorado Springs…and to you."

Rebecca froze where she was holding the kettle in mid air, about to pour the water out. Her heart began thudding even faster and she found she couldn't move, couldn't think. All she could hear was her own voice in her head. _Oh God, oh God, oh God…_

"Rebecca…" She heard the chair move again and then became all too aware of his presence directly behind her. She was reminded of the evening that he had taken her home after she collapsed, when she had ridden on Thunder with Preston sitting behind her, ever conscious of his nearness to her. She didn't know what to think, what to do, but she found herself turning to face him, seeing both the earnestness and uncertainty of his expression. "I know that this perhaps might come as a shock to you…"

_Say something, say anything…_"My godfather was here," she said, "he came from Denver. He's going to provide me with my first head of cattle."

She could tell she had surprised him. "That's…that's wonderful…"

"Yes it is." She turned back to what she had been doing and lifted the kettle again, but her hand was shaking so badly that she could barely hold her, her mind turned inside out, her body pounding with emotions she wasn't sure she could identify. All of a sudden, Preston's hand closed over hers and she jumped, spilling the tea over the work surface. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I'm so clumsy…" desperate to stop him from touching her, knowing that she couldn't handle it, she grabbed a cloth from the sink and started mopping up, crouching down so that she could catch the stray liquid which was dripping down the cupboards and onto the floor. 

Preston crouched next to her, "Rebecca…"

"I can't do anything right," she babbled self-consciously.

"Look at me." She kept wiping, unwilling to look at him, not wanting to hear what he had to say until he put his hand over hers again. Rebecca didn't move. She stared at his hand covering hers, her breathing short and shallow. He was touching her and her body felt…she didn't know how to describe how it felt. This was what was supposed to happen. This was how a man was supposed to make a woman feel. She knew that from teenage discussions with friends, from reading novels and watching plays. But somehow, she couldn't find the strength to react. 

"Look at me," he said again. She looked at him again, her eyes taking in the depths of his, the curve of his mouth…she was so afraid but she still couldn't move. "Rebecca…my…my feelings for you…well I'm not sure how best to explain them, but…but I know that over these past few weeks…I've come to see you not only as a strong and very capable young woman, but as a beautiful and wonderful person."

_Oh Lord, please stop this, please…_"Preston…" she tried to interject.

He barrelled on, ignoring her. "Someone whose company I enjoy. Someone…someone that I find myself thinking about all of the time. If I don't see you, I feel…empty. The entire trip to Boston, the entire time I was there I was thinking only of you. When I thought about what I would face if I married Helen compared to what I could have if I came back to you, there was no contest. You're not simply a customer of the bank or an acquaintance from town. I love you. I didn't know how much until I left you, but now I know. I know that I never want to be parted from you again. I love you and…and I hope that maybe…perhaps you might…feel something for me too?"

The heat of his hand against hers was too much to bear. She slipped hers from his grip, straightened up, and moved away from him, crossing the kitchen to the far side of the table. She found she could no longer look at him so instead, stood with her back to him. "I'm sorry if I've…" he began.

The last thing she wanted was for him to think he had upset her. Yet, she didn't quite know how to put her feelings into words. She turned around to face him. "Preston, I'm…I'm flattered and surprised and…oh…so many other emotions…" She ran a hand over her eyes, willing herself to be able to say something fitting. He was watching her so intently that she felt herself start to blush again and, to hide it, fixed her gaze at a spot on the floor.

"But?"

The very word made her look up at him again. "But?"

"You're flattered and surprised…but…?" 

She suddenly felt so tired, so weary, drained of emotion. She couldn't allow this to happen. Indeed she had sworn to herself that she would never let this happen. She couldn't allow herself to feel things for him when she knew it could go no further. She couldn't hurt him, or herself. "Oh Preston…there's so much that you don't know about me…" _Like the fact that I'm broken…that I could never give you what a wife should…_

He moved quickly over and stood in front of her, so close that it was as if there was no space between them. "And I want to find out! Don't you see? I want to get to know you better. There are so many things that I love about you already and anything else can only be a bonus."

Rebecca could see the future in his eyes. She knew what he wanted. How could she explain to him every fear she had, ever problem she would bring him? She dipped her head, "You don't understand. You can't understand."

"But I want to. Can't you see that I want to?" She felt his fingers gently touch her under her chin and tilt her head back. She was forced to look at him, really look at him, and see in his eyes what he was saying. He was declaring love to her. No-one had ever done that before. She had thought no-one ever would. She had never intended to let anyone do it, but now…now it was too late. "Rebecca…" he said her name and she shivered again. Then, he cupped her face with his hand and lowered his mouth to hers. She felt her eyes closing, her breathing slowing, her heart soaring as his mouth met hers. After what seemed like only a few seconds, he pulled slowly back from her. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't see for the misty tears that had sprung into them. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to upset you. I would never want to…"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head, "no it's not…it's not that. It's…you haven't upset me. I just…" She wasn't sure she could find the words…wasn't sure that she _should _find the words…

"What?"

She met his gaze again, "I just can't believe that…I thought that when you went back to Boston that I had lost you forever." She saw the look of surprise and confusion spring into his face. Now that she had started, she knew that she had to go on, knew that she had to tell him what was in her heart. "I was afraid that you would decide you wanted to stay there and marry Helen. Or worse, that you might bring her back here as your wife. I knew that I wouldn't be able to stand that when I felt…when I knew that I…I loved you." Having said the words, she suddenly felt exhausted. 

"You…you do?"

She nodded, "Yes. I realised it after you had gone. When I had this ache inside and I didn't know why because I've never loved any man, ever, and then it just seemed so obvious and I…I knew then and I thought that if I could just see you again, even just see you, it could be enough for me but…but now I know that it never would have been and…oh Lord…" she put her hand over her mouth, unable to believe all that she had just said, unable to believe that this moment was indeed happening. "I can't believe…"

Preston didn't give her the opportunity to finish her thought. Before she could react, he stepped forward, took her in his arms and held her to him. Her face was crushed against his shoulder, her senses taking in the scent of evening air and something else, something primitive that made a pulse in her groin start to throb unexpectedly. Then, he pulled back from her and kissed her again, passionately this time, holding nothing back. This time it was different. This time she responded as she knew she wanted to. Slipping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close to her, not wanting it to end, knowing that he loved her and that she loved him. Then, she felt herself being lifted off of the ground and spun around in his arms before being placed back on the ground. Pulling away from him, she looked at him again, her breath catching in her throat. 

"Well," he said, "I'm very glad I decided to come back."

Rebecca laughed, happiness starting to flood her inside. "So am I."

"Would you consent to having lunch with me at the café tomorrow afternoon?"

The thought of spending time with him made her smile with anticipation. "Seeing as I've turned you down so many other times, it would only seem fair to accept on this occasion," she quipped.

"Splendid. You can tell me more about your godfather and this herd of cattle you mentioned earlier."

In the heat of the last few minutes, she had forgotten all about the farm. "Business as usual?"

"No," he replied, "no, not at all. Not any more." He took her hands in his, "We can talk about everything tomorrow but, I fear I may have tired you sufficiently this evening.""It's been somewhat of an eventful evening," she admitted. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to stay so badly and hold her and kiss her again and again, but reality and propriety stopped her from suggesting it. "But I'm very glad you came here this evening, Preston."

"So am I." He stepped forward and kissed her again. "Tomorrow. Grace's at twelve?"

Rebecca nodded. "I'll be there." She followed him to the door and held it open for him. "Goodnight Preston."

"Goodnight Rebecca." She watched as he unhooked Thunder's reins and mounted the horse. She waited as he trotted away from the farmhouse and disappeared into the inky black night. Slowly, she closed the door and leant against it. 

Every part of her body was buzzing. Her hands where he had held them, her body where he had held it, her mouth where he had kissed her….she touched her lips gently, imagining that she could feel them buzzing. Her head felt as though it were floating ten feet from her body. In a daze, she wandered back into the kitchen and sat down at the table, trying to take everything in. He loved her. He _loved _her. And she loved him. She knew she did. Keenly and passionately and in every other way she could think of. She ached for him already, missed him, despite him only having been gone a matter of moments.

"This is madness," she whispered to herself, "sheer madness." How could this happen to her? How could she fall so deeply in love with someone she had known only a few weeks? How could she possibly feel this way? What was she going to do? It was so easy to brush everything else under the rug and lose herself in the dream of a courtship but…reality had to kick in at some point, surely. How would she tell him about herself? It was something she couldn't keep secret and yet…every man wants a wife and a family. How could she deny him that? She knew she loved him too much to want to walk away, but surely, if she loved him, she would want him to have what he wanted?

Rebecca found she couldn't think any longer. Her head was starting to hurt and her body was crying out for sleep. Slowly, she walked into the bedroom and dressed for bed. But despite everything, she couldn't sleep. She replayed the evening over and over in her mind. Love, pain, confusion…they all consumed her. 

"One day at a time," she told herself, "just take it one day at a time…"


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey, thanks for all the reviews - keep em coming!**

"Myra, have you written out those loan figures yet?"

Myra looked up from where she was painstakingly detailing the information Preston had requested mere minutes ago. "Ya ain't givin' me much of a chance," she replied, "I only started five minutes ago!"

"Well, as quick as you can please."

Myra sighed, "Yes Preston." She looked back down at the paper in front of her. "What's the rush?" she muttered to herself.

Preston had never worked faster in his life. From the second that he had arrived at the bank that morning he had furiously attacked all his outstanding paperwork, checking figures, writing letters, updating books. It was all in a frantic attempt to encourage time to move quicker. But, each time he looked at the clock, which was fairly frequently, it seemed as though mere minutes had passed. The hands of the clock moved so slowly and noon seemed further away than ever.

"Myra, did you get me the papers for the Reynolds account?" he demanded, scanning the desk.

"I put them on yer desk first thing."

"Well I can't find them!"

Sighing, Myra stood up and walked over to the desk. Lifting another stack of papers, she slid out what he was looking for and handed it to him.

"Oh," Preston said, feeling slightly silly, "thank you."

"Somethin' botherin' ya today?" Myra asked.

"What makes you say that?" Preston replied.

"Just wondered. Ya been rushin' around all mornin' like yer late for somethin'."

"No, I'm not…I mean it's…" he paused, not sure that he wanted to divulge his feelings quite yet. "It's nothing."

"All right," Myra walked back over to her desk and began focusing on the loan figures again. 

Having allowed his thoughts to stray to Rebecca, Preston found it wasn't easy to become refocused on his work. He could visualise her in his minds eye. Her face with those deep blue eyes, her deep chestnut hair, the soft curves of her body…he shook his head to stop himself from going down that path. It was, after all, highly inappropriate. Once again he started working, furiously ploughing through the work, firing order after order at Myra who stoically nodded and mentally added it to her list. Finally, as the hands of the clock hit ten minutes to twelve, Preston decided he had waited long enough.

"Myra, I'm taking an extended lunch today," he said, standing up and putting on his jacket. "But I still require you back here at one, is that clear?"

"Of course," she replied, pleased to be rid of him.

Putting on his hat, Preston left the bank and stepped out into the cool midday air. It had been raining, the roads were slick with mud and there was a fresh scent in the air. Purposefully, Preston made his way towards Grace's, greeting people he didn't even know. When he arrived, he saw that Rebecca wasn't yet there, so he took a table in the far corner and sat down to wait.

"Afternoon Preston," Grace said, hurrying up to him, "You here for some of my meatloaf?"

"Yes Grace," he replied, "but I'm actually waiting for someone so I won't order just now if you don't mind."

"That's fine," she replied cheerily, "are you waiting for anyone in particular?"

"Just…someone," he replied.

She looked at him as though he were slightly simple. "All right. You let me know when you're ready." She hurried back to the stove leaving him sitting waiting. 

Every few minutes he checked his pocket watch until, just before twelve, he saw her enter the café. She was dressed simply in a pale pink dress, her hair caught up in a half ponytail. She looked breathtaking and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

Across the café, Rebecca saw him waiting for her and nervousness made her step falter. As she paused, Grace hurried up to her. "Afternoon Rebecca."

"Good afternoon Grace," she replied, tearing her gaze away from Preston. "How are you today?"

"Fine, just fine. And you? You're looking very nice today."

Rebecca glanced down self-consciously, suddenly wondering if she were too overdressed. "Oh, thank you," she replied, "I'm quite well."

"I got a nice table over here," Grace said.

"Actually…" Rebecca interrupted, "I'm…meeting someone."

"Really? Well that makes two of you. I got exactly the same from Preston when I asked him if he wanted lunch," Grace said with a laugh.

"Oh…" Rebecca said, "I see. Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep him waiting."

Grace looked surprised, "_You're _having lunch with Preston?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Oh."

"Well," Rebecca said, "I should…" she gestured to where Preston was sitting.

"Of course," Grace said, watching as the younger woman walked away from her, "Well I never…"

Rebecca made her way over to the table, trying hard to quell her feelings of anxiety. As she approached, Preston stood up. "Hello," she greeted him.

"Rebecca," he greeted her, "You look…beautiful."

She blushed, "Thank you, I…you look very…handsome yourself." She cursed herself for how silly that remark sounded. She paused, wondering if or how they should properly greet each other. Would he move to kiss her? Should she move to kiss him? The decision was made for her as Preston pulled out a chair for her and she gratefully accepted it. As she made to sit down, he kissed her on the cheek. "Oh," she said, "thank you."

He sat down at a ninety degree angle from her. "I would kiss you properly but…" he glanced up to where the café was beginning to fill up with other diners.

"Yes, of course," she replied with a laugh. "We wouldn't want to shock everyone over lunch."

"Indeed we wouldn't." He reached out and took her hand, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Well…it took a while…there were so many things going around in my head…"

"Mine too," he said, "To be honest, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Rebecca felt her head start to buzz, "That's very…um…I mean…" _Lord, Rebecca, start talking sense…_

"I meant every word I said last night." She met his gaze. "I don't regret one single word or action."

She thought back to the way she had felt when he had kissed her, "Neither do I," she replied truthfully. "I'm just…overwhelmed I suppose. By my feelings and yours."

"I understand. It's a big thing for both of us."

"Yes it is."

At that moment, Grace approached the table and they drew their hands away from each other. "Meatloaf all round?" she asked, holding two plates aloft.

"Thank you Grace," Preston replied. 

"Yes, thank you," Rebecca echoed. She caught Grace's eye as the other woman put the plate down in front of her and instantly knew that she had seen them touching. A small smile played at the corner of Grace's mouth. 

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you," Rebecca replied, watching as Grace walked away. "I believe she saw us."

"Doing what?" Preston asked.

"Holding hands. I suspect it'll be all around town by this evening."

Preston looked at her, "I don't care who knows, do you?"

"No, it's not that, it's just…" she pushed her meatloaf around her plate.

"It's just what?"

"Preston…this is all so new to me. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you." She looked at him, "I suppose…I'm trying hard to get used to those feelings myself that I'm not sure I know how to deal with everyone else's opinion too."

He put his fork down and took her hand again, "We'll deal with it together."

"Yes," she replied, "I suppose we will." They spent the remainder of the time talking about generalities. Rebecca talked about Jack and the farm and what she was planning to do. Preston talked about how he still wanted to build some sort of hotel in Colorado Springs, but that he was still in talks with investors about financing it. Before either of them knew it, it was half past one. "I suppose you should be getting back to the bank," Rebecca said.

"Yes I suppose I should," Preston replied, reluctant to leave. "And how do you intend to spend your afternoon?"

"I've got some supplies to pick up from Loren and I have an appointment with Michaela."

He looked at her in concern, "Everything's all right isn't it? I mean, you said you were well…"

"I'm fine. It's just a routine check. She likes to keep an eye on me, particularly with the increased dosage of digitalis."

"I can't say I blame her." He paused, "Perhaps one day you'll feel comfortable confiding in me about your condition."

Rebecca looked away, "There's very little to say about it. I have a problem with my heart which caused me to faint, but I'm fine now." 

"You're sure?" he looked at her disbelievingly.

"Of course," she replied, smiling at him, "I would tell you otherwise."

He got to his feet and pulled her chair out for her. "Allow me to walk you to the clinic."

She nodded and they left the café, passing Grace on the way, who shot Rebecca a knowing smile. They walked slowly, neither one wanting to part company with the other. She didn't feel quite comfortable yet with taking his arm and he didn't offer it, but they walked close to each other, their arms occasionally rubbing together. 

"Well," Preston said when they reached the clinic, "I suppose this is where I have to leave you."

"I suppose so," Rebecca replied, but she made no move to leave. "Thank you for lunch."

"You're welcome," Preston replied, equally unwilling to walk away.

"Perhaps…perhaps I could repay you by inviting you to the farm for supper this evening," she said hurriedly, "that is, if you don't already have plans."

"Of course not!" he exclaimed, "I mean, of course I don't have plans. I would be…honoured to have supper at the farm with you. I welcome any opportunity to be alone with you."

"I'm glad," Rebecca said. She stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Shall we say seven?"

"Seven's fine," Preston replied.

"Good," she glanced behind her at the clinic door. "I should…"

"Of course. I'll see you this evening."

Rebecca nodded and then turned away. When she reached the door of the clinic, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that Preston was still standing watching her. She knocked twice and the door opened.

"Rebecca!" Michaela greeted her, "right on time." 

"Of course," Rebecca glanced behind her again and Preston touched his hat to both of them before turning and walking around the corner to the bank.

"What did he want?" Michaela asked, showing her inside.

"Oh, he was just…we were just…" Rebecca fought for words, "We were just talking."

"Really?" Michaela washed her hands, "I hope he wasn't pressurising you about your loan."

"No, not at all," Rebecca replied, "We were just…talking.

"If you could unbutton your dress," Michaela said, "I can have a listen to your heart." Rebecca did as she was asked. "That is a very pretty dress."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied. She winced as Michaela placed the cold metal of her stethoscope on her chest.

"Take a deep breath for me…and out…and in…and out…" Michaela listened intently. She stepped back, "Everything seems fine. You haven't had an attack in some weeks now."

"No, I haven't."

"Perhaps it was just the anxiety of coming back to town. Now that you're in a routine, your health may well stabilise."

"I hope so," Rebecca replied, "I'm expecting my first head of cattle by the end of the week. Business should hopefully start picking up."

"I'm glad. Do you think you'll be in a position to pay Preston at the end of the month?"

"I hope so," Rebecca said, "I don't really have much choice."

"Well don't let him bully you," Michaela said, "Stand up for yourself."

The thought of Preston bullying her seemed ridiculous to Rebecca now, but she knew better than to think that just because they were at the start of something that that changed the business agreement that they had. She had no intention of manipulating the situation and she only hoped that Preston felt the same.

"I meant to tell you," Michaela broke into her thoughts, "Brian got an A on his paper. You know, the one he did about you?"

"Really?" Rebecca grinned, "That's wonderful. I'm pleased I was able to help him."

"I know he wants to thank you in person. Why don't you come out to the homestead for dinner this evening?"

"Oh…this evening…this evening isn't too good for me. I have…" Rebecca thought hard, "I have so much preparation to do before the end of the week. Perhaps another night?"

"Of course," Michaela replied, showing no sign of irritation at the refusal. "It was rather short notice. Well, in terms of your health, I believe another check up in four weeks time should be adequate."

"Thank you," Rebecca reached into her purse and pulled out some money to pay. "I appreciate your help."

"Not at all, it's my job." Michaela opened the door. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye," Rebecca said, hurrying away in the direction of Loren's store. 

Michaela was about to close the door when Grace appeared, "Doctor Mike!"

"Grace? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, but I had to come tell you." The other woman's eyes shone with the excitement of gossip.

"Tell me what?"

Grace took a deep breath. "You ain't never gonna guess what I saw…"


	17. Chapter 17

That evening, wind and rain battered Colorado Springs. The wind howled in the trees and around buildings. The rain poured down in torrents, blotting out the landscape in a mist of water. The roads became rivers of mud, the biting wind seeming to seep in through every crack.

Rebecca stoked the fire for the fifth time, encouraging its heat to fill the room. In the kitchen, the chicken she was cooking for supper was browning nicely and she had set the table as though she were expecting royalty. Her visit to the general store to pick up a few supplies had turned into a full shopping spree and she had returned to the farm laden down with groceries. Thankfully, Loren hadn't enquired as to why she was stocking up so much as she wasn't sure she would have been able to come up with an answer. When Michaela had questioned her at the clinic about her conversation with Preston, part of her had wanted to blurt out the truth. But another part of her had wanted to keep it to herself until she was really sure.

She had changed into a blue dress and unclipped her hair, allowing it to tumble down her back in waves. Nervously, she paced the floor waiting for Preston to arrive, hoping that he was all right. She didn't have to wait long. A few moments later, she heard the sound of a horse approaching and, looking out of the window, saw Preston riding up to the door. She watched as he dismounted quickly and hurried to the door to let him in.

"You're soaked!" She exclaimed as he hurried inside. "Come in to the fire before you catch your death!"

"You could say it's a little wet outside," he said, allowing her to propel him into the living area where the fire was.

"Let me take your coat," she said. He peeled it off and handed it to her and she proceeded to hang it up close enough to the fire for it to dry but far enough away so it wouldn't catch light. "And your jacket too," she said, "Lord, you're soaked to the skin. You'd be better taking everything off!" She stopped suddenly after she said this and felt herself blushing furiously.

"Perhaps now isn't quite the right time," Preston replied, smiling.

"Well, I have some of my father's clothes in the wardrobe. I can give you a shirt and pants at least."

Preston looked at her, "How long has your father been dead?"

"I don't keep them for any morbid reason," she replied quickly, "it's just that I haven't got around to disposing of them yet." Before he could say any more, she hurried away into the bedroom and retrieved the clothes from the top shelf. Coming back into the living room, she handed them to him. He took them from her and then looked at her again. "Oh," she said, "of course. You can use my…the…bedroom." He disappeared into the bedroom and she nervously paced the floor again until he returned. "See," she said, when he came back in, "I knew they would fit you. Sit by the fire."

"Thank you," he said, sitting on the floor in front of the blaze.

"You shouldn't have come," she said, sitting down next to him, "not in this weather."

"Well I couldn't just not turn up," he replied. "Not after you kindly invited me." He sniffed the air. "Something smells wonderful anyway."

"It's roast chicken," she replied, "I hope you're hungry."

"Starving," he replied. Reaching out, he grasped a handful of her hair and gently tugged her towards him. She didn't resist and he kissed her passionately, drinking her in, knotting his fingers in her hair. She responded to him, her hand straying gingerly to rest on the top of his chest. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers, "This is how I wanted to kiss you at the café."

Rebecca let out a short laugh, "That would have really got everyone talking."

"Yes it would," he replied, "but right now, seeing as we're alone…" He kissed her again, more forcefully this time and, almost instinctively, found himself lowering her down onto her back on the floor.

As her body touched the floor, Rebecca's eyes flew open and she jerked away from him, "Preston!" She pushed him off of her and sat up, "That's…I mean, we can't possibly…!"

"No, no!" he said quickly, "No, of course not! I didn't mean…"

"I mean, it's just not proper…"

"You're right, of course you're right," he said, "Rebecca, I had no intention of…well…absolutely none, I assure you…"

"Yes, well…" she got to her feet, "dinner should be about ready I think." Hurriedly, she made her way into the kitchen.

Preston cursed himself for his stupidity. He had gone too far, gotten carried away with the passion he felt for her and acted completely inappropriately. Sheepishly, he got to his feet and followed her to the kitchen where Rebecca had taken the chicken out of the stove and was placing it in the centre of the table.

"Rebecca…" She looked up at him, "I'm truly sorry. I would never want to do anything to compromise you or make you uncomfortable. Please, forgive me."

She smiled, "There's nothing to forgive, Preston. I know that your intentions are honourable. I'm just…not used to that sort of behaviour. By that I mean, the closeness that exists between a man and a woman…" she fought for the right words, "what I'm trying to say is…"

"I understand what you're trying to say," he said softly, stepping around the table towards her, "and I promise you that it won't happen again."

"I'm not saying that I don't want you to kiss me again," she said quickly.

He grinned and drew her into his arms. "I'm very glad about that, because I'm afraid I may have to kiss you often." They kissed again for a long moment until Rebecca drew back.

"We don't want it to get cold," she said, her face flushed and her eyes bright.

"No, of course not."

They sat down and started to eat. "So," Rebecca said, "tell me more about this…what did you call it…a resort?"

"It's based on an idea from Monte Carlo," he told her, "a casino and floor show featuring…" he paused.

"Featuring what?" Rebecca asked when he didn't continue.

"Well…" he said, "there would be dancing."

"Dancing?"

Preston nodded, "But the main attraction would be the casino. It would attract people to town and they could be accommodated in the adjoining luxury hotel."

"Sounds wonderful."

He cocked his head on one side, "You wouldn't have a problem with the casino?"

"No."

"Really?"

Rebecca looked up, "Does that surprise you?"

"Well, I spoke to Loren about it and the impression I got from him was that most people wouldn't be too happy about a new gambling house in town. Particularly the women."

"I suppose it depends," she replied thoughtfully.

"On what?"

"On if it's properly run, with appropriate safeguards. I would imagine some sort of security would be required to ensure safety?"

"Of course."

She shrugged, "I don't see a problem then." She took a drink of wine, "You might have trouble getting the vote from the Town Council."

"Oh don't worry about that," Preston grinned, "I think I know how to get around that."

Rebecca was about to question further when there was a frantic knocking at the front door. Startled, she jumped slightly before getting to her feet. "Who can that be?" she asked, moving around the table and towards the front door, Preston following.

"It looks like Horace," he offered, looking out of the front window.

"Horace!" Rebecca exclaimed, opening the door onto the wild weather to reveal the telegraph operator standing dripping on her doorstep. "What on earth…?"

"Sorry Rebecca," he replied, "urgent letter came for ya from Boston. I figured I should bring it out to ya straight away."

"But in this weather…" she continued, taking it from him and shaking excess droplets of water from the envelope, "Please, come in. You must be freezing…"

"No, no," Horace said, glancing over her shoulder and meeting Preston's gaze. "I don't want to disturb you."

"It's fine, really," Rebecca glanced at Preston, "We weren't…I mean it's not…"

"I gotta get back to Myra and Samantha."

"Well perhaps that's best, Horace," Preston said, "You wouldn't want them to be home alone in this weather."

"No, I wouldn't," Horace said, touching his hat, "Night Rebecca." He looked hard at Preston. "Preston."

Rebecca watched as he rode away and then closed the door behind him. Looking at the letter in her hand, she saw the emblem of the National Trust Bank. "It's from the bank."

"What?" Preston asked. She ripped it open and read the words, her expression growing more and more horrified with each passing second. "What is it?"

"Did you know about this?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Know about what?"

"This!" She thrust the letter at him. He took it from her and scanned the words quickly. "Well? Did you know?"

"Of course I didn't know!" he replied, angry that she would think he would keep it from her. "I can't believe he would do this…"

"I don't understand," Rebecca said, following him back into the living room as he read it over again. "Don't you have final say on what happens out here?"

Preston turned to look at her, his expression sheepish. He knew he had to tell her the truth. "When I told my father I wouldn't marry Helen, he gave me an ultimatum. He said I had to close the bank and return to Boston, or he would remove me from the board and close it himself."

"But…"

"I expect I'll have a letter waiting for me at the bank indicating that that is indeed what he intends to do."

Rebecca grabbed the letter back from him, "But…_We would ask that you be in a position to make either full repayment of your loan or indeed entrust the keys of the property to Mr Henry Lodge personally on 23__rd__ October 1870…_" She looked up at him, "Whose Henry?"

"My brother," Preston replied, "Typical of my father to send the one person guaranteed to…" he ran a hand through his hair.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Rebecca demanded.

"I told you, I didn't know he was going to actually go through with it!"

"But you must have known that he was serious when he gave you the ultimatum!" She insisted, "How could you not even tell me about the possibility…"

"I didn't want to worry you about something which might not have happened!"

"Well it is happening, Preston!" She waved the letter at him, "It's all down here in black and white!" She turned her back on him and watched the rain continue to obscure the view from the window. "I don't have the money. You know I don't have the money…"

"I know."

"What am I supposed to do? We have an agreement…I don't know…" she turned back to look at him, "What do I do?"

Preston stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "I promise you that we will fix this."

"How?"

"I don't know," he said, drawing her into his arms, "but I'll think of something." He held her against him, feeling her despair and fear course through her, feeling it seep into himself. Damn his father. Damn him! He hadn't really thought that he would go through with it and to send Henry…he would have laughed if the whole idea hadn't been so ludicrous.

"I'm sorry," he heard her say, muffled against his chest.

He pulled back and looked at her, "What for?"

"For dragging you into my mess. For making you more a part of this than you deserve. You work for the bank. I shouldn't be…"

"Rebecca," he cupped her face in his hands, "You don't have to apologise for anything."

"But…"

"I'm involved because I want to be involved. And," he said ruefully, "I don't really work for the bank anymore."

"What will you do?"

"Take care of you first," he replied, "sort out the issue with this farm. Make sure that you're all right."

Tears welled up in Rebecca's eyes, "You should have married Helen…"

"Rebecca…"

"You wouldn't have to deal with any of this…"

"I couldn't have married her, you know that. Not when I love you as passionately as I do." He kissed her gently and then drew her back into his arms, "I promise you that I'll fix this. Henry is obviously going to be here by Friday. I'll try and speak to him, reason with him…" he said the words but only wished he felt as confident as he sounded. "I'll think of something."

An hour later, having comforted Rebecca as best he could, he prepared to leave. Rebecca handed him his clothes, which had now dried next to the fire, at the door. "Thank you," she said.

"I haven't done anything yet," he replied.

"Yes you have. If Horace had brought me that letter when I was here alone I would probably have thrown myself in the fire."

"No you wouldn't," he insisted, "you would fight. You're a fighter Rebecca. That's one of the things that attracted me to you in the first place; your determination, your passion, your fire…" he stopped himself before he got carried away. "But you don't have to fight alone."

"I know," she said. Stepping forward she kissed him, pressing herself briefly against him. "Preston…"

"What?"

"No," she said, after a long pause, "No it doesn't matter. It wouldn't be…it wouldn't be right." She stepped back. "You should go."

"Come to the bank tomorrow and we'll talk." She nodded. "I love you."

"I love you," she replied, giving him a final kiss. Then she watched as he headed out into the rain and rode away in the direction of town. Closing the door, she leant against it, feeling completely drained. Part of her was angry that he hadn't told her, but another part of her drew strength from his presence, from his help and, most importantly, his love. Taking a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror. "He's right, Rebecca," she told herself, "You're a fighter. And you're going to fight this. You're not going to let go. You're going to fight and you're going to win!" She sighed heavily, "You _have _to win."


	18. Chapter 18

**I am so, so, so sorry it has been so long since an update! I got a bit of a block but reckon I'm back on track now! I hope my loyal readers will continue to read and review!!**

"It looks pleasant enough, I'll grant you that." Peter Lodge looked out of the train window as they drew nearer to Colorado Springs, "The scenery that is. I can't imagine for one minute that this little town of Preston's will be anything much to speak of."

Henry Lodge lowered his paper and looked at his younger brother, "Can't you think of anything more positive to say?"

Peter looked at him, "Like what?"

Henry shook his head, "You've been moaning ever since we left Denver. I don't know why you volunteered to accompany me on this trip."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me."

"I want to see what this place Preston goes on about so much is like."

"Are you sure it's the town and not a certain someone that you're keen to see?" Henry smiled.

"If you mean that farm girl that Preston appears to be infatuated with, then yes I suppose I am curious about her. Especially after everything Helen said."

"I wouldn't put a great deal of stock in what Helen says."

"And why not?"

"She's always been prone to over-exaggeration."

"Well anyway," Peter said, "I promised Mary I would wire her with a full description."

"I think we should be less concerned about Preston's choice of mate and more concerned about the bank," Henry folded his paper and laid it on the seat beside him, "Father was practically apoplectic again this morning. Mother had to keep reminding him to calm down. He was ranting and raving about how terrible it was Preston had ruined everything for some woman."

"It was a ridiculous idea to allow Preston to start this unwise venture in the first place," Peter observed, "Quite frankly, Father must bear some of the blame himself. But then, Preston always has been his favourite."

"Now, now Peter. The time for sour grapes is long past."

"I don't have _sour grapes. _I'm merely stating a fact. Preston's always been the baby of the family and if he hasn't had Mother fussing over him, he's had Father grooming him to take over running the bank. Never mind the fact that he has four older sons equally capable."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Well, we're not here to revel in Preston's misfortune."

"Speak for yourself."

"Peter…"

"Oh come on Henry! You have to admit it's all rather amusing. But think on it this way. Perhaps you too will find a pleasant-faced farm girl in Colorado Springs and decide to make your home here. You and Preston could go into business together!" He laughed uproariously at his own joke.

"I can assure you of one thing, Peter," Henry said, "_that _will never happen."

XXXX

"So Henry isn't married then?" Rebecca looked up from where she was reading an old copy of the Boston Globe that Preston had shown her. The society page, to be precise, which had a brief article about Henry Lodge attending one of the city's new plays.

"He and I are the only two in the family who aren't," Preston replied, "though I do hope to rectify that for myself someday soon." Rebecca blushed and looked back down at the paper quickly.

"And why are you so concerned about your father sending Henry here?"

"Henry's very like my father," Preston explained, "he's ruthless, but comes across as being charming. You'll probably like him when you first meet him but please remember what I've said. He won't think anything of dismantling everything I've worked for here and discarding it. Not to mention taking great, subtle pleasure in removing the farm from you."

"My cattle are supposed to be arriving today. I wired Jack to try and explain but I don't know whether he got it in time or not." She sighed heavily, "Perhaps as well as the farm, the bank will get a superior head of cattle too."

They were sitting together in the closed bank. Preston at his desk, Rebecca across from him. The bank had been closed since the day Rebecca had received her letter. As predicted, Preston too had received one declaring that he was to no longer trade until Henry arrived in town to sort things out. Everyone in town had been confused, especially Myra, and especially at the fact that the only other person seemingly allowed into the bank was Rebecca. She had been there every day, though for what purpose she wasn't sure. It wasn't as if she had done anything except sit with Preston while he went through the accounts, making sure that there was nothing irregular that his brother could pick up on. She felt for him and couldn't help feeling that she was the cause of so many of his problems.

"What time does your brother's train get in?" she asked.

Preston glanced at the clock on the wall, "Ten minutes."

"Do you intend to meet him?"

"I suppose so."

"Then I'll come with you."

Preston looked at her, "You don't have to do that. I can introduce you at a later stage."

"No, if he wants to take away my farm then he can say it to my face," she said, resolved. "And seeing as I appear to be the cause of you being removed from the bank, I think it only fair that I be present for that reason too."

Preston smiled at her, "If you insist…"

"I do."

"Then I can't very well stop you, can I?"

"No, you can't." Preston rose from his seat, came around the desk and crouched next to her, "I love you, you do know that, don't you?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied, "I know."

Preston took a breath, "Perhaps now might be a good time…" he was cut off by a loud bang at the door. He got to his feet and moved to the door, allowing Rebecca to breathe a sigh of relief. When he opened it, he was confronted by Horace and a group of equally unhappy looking townsfolk. "Something I can help you with Horace?" Preston asked.

"We want to know what's going on, Preston," Horace demanded. "It's been days now! Myra wants to know if she's going to still have a job!"

"There are a few issues with the bank at the moment," Preston replied in an attempt to placate him, "but I can assure you that in a few days…"

"A few days?" Horace butted in, "That ain't good enough, Preston! I'm concerned for my money. We all are!" The others behind him murmured their agreement. "And how come Rebecca gets to be in here every day?" Horace gestured past Preston at her. "How come she's involved in this?"

Rebecca got to her feet and came over to the door, "Horace, I can understand your concern, truly I can," she said, "but Preston's right. Everything will be sorted out in a couple of days."

"It just don't seem right," Horace said.

"Horace, do you trust me?" Rebecca looked straight at him.

"I s'pose," he replied.

"Well then, please believe what I'm telling you. I wouldn't lie to you, I promise."

"All right, Rebecca," Horace said, backing away from the door, "if you say so."

Preston closed the door and turned to her, "Thank you."

"They're all going to find out sooner or later," she said, "and it would be best coming from you."

"I know," he replied, "but I need to talk to Henry first before I can make promises to other people about their money and the future of the bank. Speaking of which," he glanced at his watch, "the train will be here any minute." He looked at her again, "Are you sure you want to come?"

Rebecca lifted her chin, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

XXXX

"That's Henry there," Preston said, gesturing to the man stepping down from the recently arrived train. "Oh Lord…"

"What?" Rebecca asked, turning to look at him and seeing the look of irritation on his face.

"Preston!" Henry called out before his brother had a chance to reply. He stepped forward and held out his hand, "You're looking well, I must say, despite the unfortunate circumstances."

"I assume you had a good trip?" Preston asked, returning his brother's handshake.

"Yes it was very pleasant," Henry replied, "full of anticipation." He shifted his gaze to Rebecca, "And who might this be?"

"Henry, this is Rebecca McKendrick," Preston made the introduction, "Rebecca, my brother Henry."

"Pleased to meet you," Rebecca said, holding out her hand.

Henry kissed it, "A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss McKendrick. So, you are the beautiful creature that my brother has renounced all good sense for." Rebecca pulled her hand back, "I must say, Preston, she really is quite lovely."

Preston was too busy glaring over his brother's shoulder to respond. "I see you've brought Peter with you."

"Preston…" Peter grinned at him, "I hope you don't mind me coming along for the ride," he held out his hand, but Preston ignored it. "It really is a very quaint place you have here," he continued, looking around, "very…what's the word….frontier-like."

"Rebecca, this is my other brother, Peter," Preston said, as pleasantly as he could, "I didn't realise that he would be accompanying Henry. Peter this is…"

"Yes, yes, I think I can guess," Peter said, looking Rebecca up and down with a look of faint distaste. "This is purely a business trip, Preston. I don't believe that we will be in need of Miss McKendrick's company."

"I think you'll find that my presence is business related, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said, before Preston could defend her.

"Really?" Peter looked at her disparagingly, "How so?"

"You intend to foreclose on my property," she replied, "that alone means that I have an interest in any discussion relating to it."

"But have you no father or husband to…oh no," Peter said sarcastically, "I forgot that you were Preston's latest amusement."

"Peter…" Henry said warningly.

"Oh I'm just having a little sport with Miss McKendrick," Peter laughed, "I'm sure she's adult enough to be able to take it in good spirit, aren't you Miss McKendrick?"

"Of course," Rebecca replied, although inside she was seething.

"Well!" Preston clapped his hands, trying to keep his temper for appearance sake, "you must both be hungry after your trip. Why don't we retire to Grace's for some lunch before going to the bank?"

"If you don't mind, Preston," Henry replied, "I'd like to go to the bank myself first. Just to have a look around, you understand, nothing sinister."

"Of course," Preston replied, somewhat taken aback.

"But I'm sure Peter would love to be introduced to some good frontier cooking," Henry clapped Peter on the back, "I can join you there later."

"Fine," Preston said, handing him the keys. Then he turned to Peter, "Shall we?"

"How cosy," Peter replied, "just the three of us."

XXXX

It was crowded at Grace's, but Preston found them a table in the far corner, far enough away from a table which included Loren, Jake and Hank, to be able to talk discreetly if necessary. On the short walk from the station, Peter had managed to compliment everything, yet always succeeded in adding a somewhat detrimental comment at the end. He couldn't understand for the life of him why Henry had agreed to bring Peter with him. As if it wasn't bad enough. He left Peter and Rebecca seated together while he went to speak to Grace, an opportunity Peter appeared to relish.

"So, Miss McKendrick," Peter said, once they were alone. "You own a small property outside of town, I understand."

"That's right," Rebecca replied, "a farm."

"It can't be easy for you. A woman on your own I mean."

"I manage."

"It's hard to see how."

"I'm very resourceful."

"You would have to be, living in a place like this," Peter said. "Of course, I suppose now all your troubles are over."

"In what way?" Rebecca asked.

"Well, now that you have enchanted my baby brother with your womanly wiles."

"I really don't see how…"

"Allow me to be frank with you, Miss McKendrick," Peter leant forward, "You have destroyed any and all credibility my brother ever had."

"I beg your…"

"Before he met you, he was planning to marry Miss Draper and there was never any question of the marriage not proceeding."

"I believe you'll find, Mr Lodge, that Preston had his mind made up on that subject _before _he ever laid eyes on me."

"Yes but you've managed to push him in the right direction, haven't you? It must be quite a coup for a woman like yourself. A woman of such limited means and poor prospects to catch hold of someone like my brother." Rebecca was too incensed to reply. "Please don't misunderstand me, Miss McKendrick, seeing my brother berated by my father was an experience I would have given five years of my life for. Preston has always been the favourite, although it's hard to fathom why. Now, of course, thanks to you he has fallen from such a lofty pedestal. You have succeeded in pulling him down to your own level and I have to commend you for it."

"You have absolutely no right…"

"I have every right! You are bringing my brother's name into disrepute and, in turn, the name of our entire family. Preston is ruined. You will not attain anything by marrying him."

"Preston can start his own bank!" Rebecca said, "He doesn't need you or your father in order to do so!"

"Really?" Peter laughed harshly, "Foolish girl. You really have no idea how banking works, do you? Miss Draper was right. You are nothing but a brainless country girl who, in throwing yourself at my brother, has shown herself to be nothing more than a common whore. I would ask you now to release my brother from whatever hold you have over him. It is not too late for him to salvage something from this mess."

Rebecca's cheeks were burning and she could feel tears pricking her eyes, but she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing them. "I think you have said your piece, Mr Lodge, and said it very clearly. I believe I am in no doubt as to your feelings on the matter and, in all likelihood, the feelings of your entire family."

"At least we can agree on that."

"But I must tell you that the only person whose opinion I care for is Preston's. I care not what you, nor the rest of your family, think of me. If you wish to console yourself with the idea that I am some 'common whore' as you so kindly put it, who has bewitched your brother then please do so. I would not wish to waste my breath attempting to convince you otherwise. I know the truth of the situation, as does Preston. But I must also tell you, that Preston has made no such offer of marriage to me and until he does, he is free to do whatever he chooses. If you feel in a position to be able to use the few days you will be here to tempt him back to Boston, by all means do so. It will be a pleasant game for you, I'm sure. But if you think for one minute that I am going to let your family take away my farm without a fight then you are sorely, _sorely_ mistaken."

At that moment, Preston returned to the table. "Everything all right?" he asked, looking between them.

"Miss McKendrick and I were merely swapping life stories," Peter replied.

Rebecca got to her feet, "If you'll excuse me, Preston, I'm really not that hungry after all."

"Are you all right?" he got to his feet.

"Fine," she replied, "I'm sure you and your brother have much to talk about out with my hearing. I'll meet you at the bank later." Before he could say anything more, she hurried away from the table and out of the café before anyone could see her anguish.


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry it's been so long everyone. I hope you'll continue to read and review!**

It was dark when Rebecca heard the sound of a horse approaching the farm. Glancing out of the window, she recognised Preston riding up to the door and dismounting. For a second, she considered not answering the door, her pride still hurt from the comments made earlier by his brother. As she watched, hidden behind the curtain, he made his way up to the door and knocked. Rebecca moved to the door and opened it, throwing light onto his face.

"Rebecca!" he greeted her.

"Preston," she replied flatly, stepping purposefully back when he made to kiss her. She turned her back on him and walked into the kitchen. She heard the door close and the sound of his footsteps following her. "Tea?" she asked.

"Yes…" Preston replied slowly, "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well you didn't come to the bank and you seem a little…out of sorts tonight."

"Out of sorts?" Rebecca echoed, "Really? I suppose it must be the effect your charming brother has on me."

"Peter?"

"Yes, Peter." Rebecca turned and leant back against the stove, "We had a very interesting talk at the café this afternoon."

"Is that what upset you?" Preston asked, stepping towards her, "I thought there was something wrong when you left so suddenly."

"I didn't see you running after me." Rebecca took a deep breath, "Let's just say that Peter laid all his cards very firmly on the table and told me _exactly _what he thought of me." She felt herself quiver with rage at the memory.

"What did he say to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It _does _matter!" Preston insisted, "I want to know what he said!"

"I'm not willing to repeat it. I'm sure you can imagine for yourself." She turned away from him again and began to noisily pour the tea, only stopping when Preston's hand closed over her own. His touch made her breath catch in her throat and the butterflies circle her stomach. Finally, she put the pot down and turned into his embrace, breathing in the scent of the damp outdoors from his jacket. "How did it go at the bank?" she asked, desperate to deflect attention away from herself.

Preston pulled back, "Henry was polite about the whole thing, but there's nothing worse than having someone go through your books looking for mistakes."

"I'm sure he didn't find any."

"Of course he didn't," Preston smiled at her and then bent to kiss her. Rebecca closed her eyes and allowed his mouth to meet hers, sinking into the warm security of his embrace. But she still couldn't tear her mind away from what had been said.

As if sensing her unease, Preston pulled her tighter to him. "Please tell me," he asked again.

"He called me a whore."

Preston jerked back from him and his face darkened, "What? How dare he!"

"He said I was bringing your entire family down…that kind of thing. He thinks he can persuade you to return back to Boston with him."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, "He'll never succeed. Besides, in a few short months you'll be Mrs Lodge and no-one in my family will be able to do anything about it."

Rebecca stepped back, "Mrs Lodge?"

"Of course."

"But…"

"But what?"

"Well…" Rebecca moved back further, "You've never asked me to…I mean you've never suggested that we…"

"Get married?" She nodded, "Rebecca, where did you think we would go from here?"

"Well I…"

"Of course we're going to get married."

"We are?" she asked, stupidly.

"I, of course, plan to ask you in pubic in typically grand fashion…"

"No," she said quickly, drawing him up. "I mean…" she broke off, unsure as to what to say. Was now the time to tell him that she could never marry him? "I mean…not in public, I…I would be too embarrassed, Preston, please."

"As you wish," he acquiesced, "but you have to at least let me announce it in public. After all," he stepped towards her, "I want everyone to know our intentions."

"I…"

"In that case," he came closer to her again and put his hands on her waist, "I should probably ask you now."

"Oh…well…"

"Rebecca McKendrick, I have loved you for what feels like eternity. My every waking moment is filled with thoughts of you. I want to be with you forever and, to that end, I ask you now if you will do me the very great honour of agreeing to become my wife?" Preston reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box, "I've been carrying this around with me, waiting for the right moment." She took it from him, "It's a Spencer design. I felt it was only appropriate.

With trembling fingers, Rebecca opened the box to reveal the most exquisite ring. A single cut diamond that sparkled in the lamplight. "Preston it's…well, it's…" She didn't know what to say. Never having imagined that any man would ever offer something like this to her, Rebecca had never planned on what to say. "It's beautiful."

He lifted the ring from the box, "A beautiful ring, for an exceptionally beautiful woman." Taking her hand, he slipped it onto her finger. "Perfect."

Rebecca had to admit that it looked good. She held it up and examined it, her emotions torn between what was being offered to her and what she could never offer in return. "Preston…"

"I think you owe me a word."

"Thank you."

He smiled at her, "You're welcome, but that's two words and isn't what I meant." He took her face in his hands again, "Yes?"

She paused, knowing that now was the time. Knowing that she should hand the ring back and end it now, before it all became too much. But something inside stopped her. Something called love. "Yes," she heard herself say, "Yes, I'll marry you."

XXXX

"I have a proposition for you, Henry," Preston said the following morning at the bank, "One I hope you'll agree to."

Henry looked up from the books he was perusing, "Really? And what's that?"

"I want to purchase the McKendrick farm."

Henry raised his eyebrows, "Purchase the farm?"

Preston nodded, "It would have come to me anyway on my marriage to Rebecca. I don't see why I shouldn't just pre-empt that."

"I see," Henry sat back in his seat, "So you don't think that Rebecca will be able to come up with the money on time?"

"I have every confidence that she would have caught up with the loan payments as per our original agreement, but there's no way that she will have the requisite sum to pay off her entire loan by the end of the week as Father demands. Therefore, I want to purchase it now."

"And what does Rebecca think about this?"

"Well…she doesn't know."

"I understand it's not good to keep secrets from your future wife, Preston."

"Yes, yes, yes," Preston waved his hand, "Spare me your pearls of wisdom, Henry, especially as you remain a bachelor yourself."

Henry smiled, "And how exactly do you propose to work this little deal?"

"Have her believe, come the end of the week, that the farm is to be repossessed. Only I will have already purchased the bank's share and will therefore be her creditor. Then, I can give it straight back to her. Or, rather, hold it until we are married."

"You've given this a lot of thought."

"I have. Are you prepared to sell me the bank's liability?"

"I don't see why not," Henry replied, "It would certainly be one less problem."

"Excellent!" Preston said, "I'll draw up the paperwork."

At that moment, the door opened and Peter strolled in, "Good morning Henry, Preston."

"What time do you call this?" Henry asked.

"Now, now," Peter replied, "I'm on a bit of an adventure here, Henry. You can't blame me for enjoying every minute of it. I've been exploring the town this morning. I must say, Preston, it really is quite progressive. Give it another hundred years and it might be a quarter of the way towards civilisation."

"Peter…" Henry warned.

"It's interesting how you talk of being civilised," Preston said, "Given your extremely _uncivilised _behaviour yesterday."

"And what might that have been?"

"I'm referring to the way in which you spoke to Rebecca."

"Oh _that,_" Peter said, unconcerned, "Forgive me, Preston, but someone had to tell her a few home truths. And considering you are too blinded by infatuation, it wasn't going to be you."

"How dare you…"

"How dare _you_!" Peter retorted, "Making a fool of the entire family the way you have. Mother and Father are beside themselves, not to mention poor Helen."

"Oh we mustn't forget poor Helen," Preston replied sarcastically.

"That girl needed told exactly what she was and yes, I told her. If you think I'm going to apologise…"

"If I were any less of a gentleman I would strike you right here," Preston said.

"Oh please do," Peter replied, "It's been too long since we last sparred together." He took off his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves.

"Now come on…" Henry said, stepping between them, "Let's not resort to this again."

"I won't have you speaking that way to my future wife!" Preston said.

"You're not going to marry her, Preston, you know you're not," Peter said, "You'll realise eventually what she is…"

"Indeed I am," Preston interrupted, "I formally asked her last night and she said yes, so your attempts to persuade me otherwise are fruitless."

Peter and Henry exchanged glances, "You formally asked her?" the latter echoed.

"Indeed I did. She now has my ring on her finger, proof to everyone that we are intending on being married."

"Well, this changes things," Henry said.

"I don't see how."

"I'm afraid I can't support your earlier request to purchase the bank's liability for the McKendrick farm."

Preston looked at him, "What?"

"There might have been something agreeable were you to renounce your intentions towards Rebecca, purely as compensation for her, but now that you actually intend to _marry _her…"

"You always knew that was my intention!"

"I, like Peter, thought you might have come to your senses…"

"Henry…"

"No Preston, I'm sorry," Henry shook his head, "If you truly intend to marry her, then you will have to support her. Unless she has the money by Friday, that farm will be repossessed."

XXXX

It was a sight Rebecca had never thought she would see, even in her darkest moments. She stood a few feet away as the For Sale sign was hammered into the ground at the front door of what had used to be her home. Friday had dawned bright and crisp, and with it, Rebecca's hopes for a successful outcome had died. Jack had wired to say that he had received her telegram and what did she want him to do with the cattle? Sell them to someone else, she had replied. It was too late for her now. The money that she had barely scratched the surface of the loan repayment.

"Can't believe it." She turned to see Matthew standing behind her. He had come to help her move out all her belongings. "I can't believe they took it."

"Neither can I," she sighed, "but they have." She glanced at her possessions, stacked in her wagon. "I was a fool for thinking there could be any other outcome."

"No you weren't," Matthew stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders, "You did everything you could."

"And it wasn't good enough," she tried not to cry, "This farm has been in my family for years, Matthew, and now it's the property of National Trust Bank."

Matthew sighed, "Where's Preston? He should be here."

"Why?" Rebecca asked cautiously, aware that no-one yet knew of their engagement."Come on Rebecca," he said, putting his head on one side, "Everyone in town's talking about how the two of you are courting."

"They are?"

He nodded, "Besides…" he lifted her left hand, "Rock like that is kinda hard to hide." Rebecca pulled her hand away and looked down at the ring. "I suppose it is." At that moment, there was the sound of hooves and she turned to see Preston riding towards them. He slid down from his horse and hurried over.

"I'm sorry, I got here as soon as I could. I spent most of last night and early this morning trying to get Henry to change his mind."

"Guess you didn't try hard enough," Matthew said angrily.

"Matthew," Rebecca said, "please, don't. Preston's done everything he can."

"I can handle things from hereon in, Matthew," Preston said, "but I'm sure Rebecca's grateful for your help." The two men eyeballed each other for a long moment.

"I'll be in town if you need me," Matthew said to Rebecca, giving her a quick hug before swinging himself back onto his horse.

"Thank you Matthew," she said, "for helping me."

"No problem," Matthew touched his hat before riding away.

"Are these all your things?" Preston asked, gesturing to the loaded wagon.

Rebecca nodded, "Sully and Michaela said I could store what I needed to at the homestead." She sighed, "I still can't believe it."

"Nor can I," Preston said, "I'm so sorry."

"It isn't your fault," Rebecca said, turning into his embrace, "You did what you could." She allowed him to hold her for a long moment, "What about the bank?"

"Henry has finished his business there. The money has been wired back to the bank headquarters in Boston and both he and Peter are leaving on the afternoon train."

"And the building?" She looked up at him.

"The bank will sell it to the highest bidder, of course."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Well…" Preston sighed, "lesser men than I have opened banks. Many of the investors I have know me, know what I'm good at, albeit that they are investors of my father's bank. I would hope that I might be able to build things up from scratch…" He tailed off.

"It won't be easy."

"I know."

"For either of us."

Preston pulled back from her, "You can stay at the boarding house for now, can't you? Until…well…until…"

Rebecca nodded, "Yes. And you? That's where you intend to stay too, isn't it?"

Preston looked uncomfortable, "Rebecca…"

"There's nothing improper in it, Preston. It's not as if we'll be in the same room."

"It's not that," he said, "I…" he sighed, "Rebecca, I need to try and build my bank up from scratch."

"You said that."

"In order to do that, I need to be where the investors are. At least for a little while."

"I don't understand," she said, searching his face, "What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm saying is…I have to go back to Boston."

Rebecca felt the bottom drop out of her world, "What?!"

"I know it's not ideal…"

"Not idea?! Preston…"

"It's only for a short time…"

"How short?"

"Perhaps until Christmas…"

Rebecca pulled away from him and turned her back on him. This couldn't be happening to her. Not only had she just lost her home, but now she was losing the one person she had to cling on to.

"Please, try to understand…"

She turned back to face him, "Understand? My home has just been taken away from me and now you…you ask me to be your wife and then you say you're _leaving…_"

"Rebecca, I have no choice!" Preston grabbed her by the shoulders, "Do you think I want to go? Of course I don't! I want to stay here with you and marry you right now and start our life together. But I can't offer you anything right now!"

"That's not true…"

"It is! I don't have a business or a home and all my money is tied up in my father's bank. I can't provide for a wife…"

"But we're not getting married right now! There's time, plenty of time…"

"I can't marry you at all until I know what the future is going to bring financially. Please," he searched her face, "please try and understand." Rebecca started to cry and he pulled her to him, "This is the last thing I want to do now, believe me. But I have no choice."

She clung to him, breathing in his scent, remembering the nights she had spent imagining herself as his wife, being beside him, giving herself to him, despite everything…now he was telling her that he was leaving and she couldn't bear it. "I'm not sure I can be here without you."

Preston sighed, "And I'm not sure I can be in Boston without you, but I have no choice." He pulled back and smoothed her hair away from her face, "I love you."

"If you loved me," she said, "you wouldn't go."

He looked at her, "That's hardly fair."

"Fair? None of this is fair!" She pointed to the sign, "Look at that! Do you think that's fair?"

"No, of course not…it kills me that I wasn't able to make things right for you. That Henry changed his mind about my proposition."

"What proposition?"

"I wanted to buy the bank's share of the farm. Once we're married it would have passed to me as your husband anyway and then…well…you could have kept it, debt free. Henry agreed initially, but then changed his mind."

"Oh," she looked at the ground, "that would have been…very kind of you." Her heart felt as though it were breaking, splintering, with every word, but the answer now appeared to be in front of her and she had to take it. "You should go to Boston. You must. I understand. But take this with you." Pulling the ring off of her finger, she held it out to him.

Preston looked at her in astonishment, "But that's…"

"What? It's what? Mine?" She shook her head, "No, those things in that wagon there are mine. This is yours." He simply stood looking at it, until she took his hand in hers, dropped the ring into his palm and closed it. "Give it to me again when you come back."

"I don't understand," he said, "I gave it to you."

"I know, and it's more beautiful than any ring I could ever imagine," she said, "but you gave it to me in a time when everything was against us, when everything was wrong. When you've made it right, when you've got the investors you need, when you're ready to come back…give it to me then. Ask me again." She couldn't believe how calm she now sounded, how in control.

"But our obligation…"

"Don't think of it like that," she said, "you're under no obligation to me." She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. It hurt so much letting him go, but she knew she could bear it more if he left without there being any fixed bond between them. In time, it would be easier to break.

Preston pulled her into his arms again, "I'll write to you, every day. Will you write to me?"

"Of course."

"I know it's not proper to think of it, but I wish I could have spent just one night with you."

Rebecca closed her eyes and fought against the hard knot of pain in her stomach. "I do too." They pulled apart and kissed, deeply, passionately, every emotion flowing between them.

"Will you come to the station?"

"No," she shook her head, "I watched you leave once, before I felt half of what I feel for you now. I think watching you leave again might kill me." She stepped back from him. "Go." He hesitated. "Please Preston, go now."

He moved away from her and swung himself back up onto his horse. Rebecca turned her back on him and looked away into the distance, until the sound of Thunder's hooves had died away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry it's taken so long for an update. I hope someone...anyone...is still sticking with this!!**

**December 1870**

**Colorado Springs**

"There you go Mrs Lewis and I've put that on your account." Rebecca handed the woman the bag of flour and smiled as she left the store. After she had gone, Rebecca carefully wrote the requisite information into the account ledger and then closed the book with a flourish. Checking the clock on the wall, she saw that it was almost four o'clock and time to finish for the day.

"Here you go Rebecca," Loren said, coming up behind her and handing her a small envelope, "and there's a little bit extra in there. Think of it as a Christmas bonus."

Rebecca blushed as she took it from him and slipped it into her pocket, "Thank you." She had been working at the store for the previous six weeks, a move generated more by Loren's kind-heartedness towards her than any skill she might possess in the retail trade.

"You…uh…you got plans for Christmas?"

"No," she replied, "not really." If she was being honest, she had no Christmas cheer. The thought of spending it in the boarding house didn't exactly appeal. It was so different from the Christmas she had imagined.

"You know, you're welcome to join me and Dorothy if you like."

"That's very kind, Loren, really, but I wouldn't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll be fine."

Loren made a face, "It ain't right, young girl like you on your own for Christmas." He looked at the ceiling, "What about Preston?"

"What about him?"

"Is he coming back for the holidays?"

Rebecca opened her mouth to reply when Horace came bustling into the store holding a letter. "Afternoon Rebecca, Loren."

"Hello Horace," the former replied.

"Got a telegram for you from Boston," Horace held it out to her, "It's from Preston."Rebecca gingerly took it from him and then slipped it into her pocket beside her pay.

"Ain't you going to read it?" Loren asked.

"Maybe later," she replied, although she knew fine well what it would say. It was the third one she had received in as many days. Meeting Horace's gaze, she knew that he, of course, knew what it said and was waiting for her reaction. "Thank you Horace," she said. He touched his hat and then left the store.

Rebecca lifted the broom from the corner of the room and began sweeping the floor. As she did so, she could feel Loren's eyes on her back. "That ain't the first telegram you've received from Preston." She didn't reply, "Don't you think you owe him an explanation as to why you ain't been writing to him?"

"How do you know I..?" She turned to face him then stopped and sighed. "It's better this way."

"Better for whom?"

"Both of us. He's back in Boston with his family and with more suitable young women. Who knows how long it'll take for him to build up the contacts he needs for his bank? It would be easier if he just remained in Boston and worked for his father."

"Maybe he don't want to do that. Maybe he wants to come back to Colorado Springs to be with you."

"You don't even like him," Rebecca said, turning back to her sweeping.

"No," Loren replied truthfully, "but I like _you_." She looked at him again, "I want you to be happy and you ain't been happy since he left."

Rebecca knew he was being truthful. Something had died in her since Preston had returned to Boston. It was the little spark that she had held onto after the bank had taken the farm, the tiny knowledge that, despite what happened, she had Preston and he loved her. His leaving had taken that away and it was an effort most days to even conjure up the pretence of happiness.

She reached into her pocket and lifted out the telegram.

_Rebecca. I'm worried about you. Please write back immediately. I love you. Preston._

She crumpled the paper in her hand and dropped it back into her pocket. It was better this way. It had to be. His leaving had provided her with the ideal opportunity of ending their relationship without having to reveal the true reasons for doing so. She had no intention of writing back.

**Boston**

_Rebecca I'm worried about you. Please write back immediately. I love you. Preston._

Preston replayed his last telegram to Rebecca over and over in his mind on a never-ending loop, hoping that perhaps, as if by magic, he might hear a response. He had been away from her almost two months and in that time he could count on one hand the number of letters he had received from her.

Upon his arrival in Boston, Preston had written to her on almost a daily basis. She had replied fairly quickly and her initial letters echoed his in terms of sentiment and longing. But as time passed, they became more infrequent and the tone changed to such an extent that he could have mistaken her last letter for one written to anyone, not least her fiancé.

"Good morning Mr Lodge."

Preston looked up into the slightly weary face of Mr Harold Burke, the postmaster in Boston and gave him his best smile. "Good morning Mr Burke."

"Two letters this morning, sir," Mr Burke passed the envelopes to him, a quick glance revealing that neither was from Rebecca.

"Any telegrams?" Preston asked, clinging on to the last vestige of hope.

"Sorry sir," Mr Burke said, his expression kind, "Not today." Of course the older man knew what word Preston hoped for having himself sent the previous telegrams.

"Thank you," Preston replied, downcast. He moved out of the line and left the post office, shivering as the cold December air hit him hard. Pulling his coat more tightly around himself, he began walking in the direction of his father's bank.

"Preston! Preston!" He turned at the sound of his name and saw Helen hurrying towards him. "I thought it was you I saw coming out of the post office."

"Good morning Miss Draper. Or should I say, Mrs O'Connor?"

Helen blushed and smiled, "So you know then?"

He sighed inwardly. For her to even pretend to be surprised that he knew of her recent marriage irked him beyond measure. The cream embossed invitation had dropped onto the Lodge's doormat a mere three weeks after Preston's return to Boston. Helen Draper was to be married to Charles O'Connor on December 12th. His father had huffed and puffed about it, but he and his wife had attended, along with Preston's brothers and their wives. Preston himself had, of course, been invited but had declined to attend.

"Many congratulations," he said, kissing her proffered hand.

"Thank you," she replied, "and how are you? I've hardly seen anything of you since you came home."

"I've been busy," he replied.

"Doing what?" she pressed.

"Making contacts," he replied cautiously.

"So you can go back to Colorado Springs, open your own bank and marry Miss McKendrick I suppose." Preston looked at her. "Oh Preston, this is Boston! People talk. And talk quite readily I must say." She smiled crookedly at him. "Particularly of the fact you have been back in the city now for almost two months without any sense of a return to the West."

"Yes, well…" Preston replied, "These things take time."

"I wouldn't have thought a woman like Rebecca would wait forever," Helen said.

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that women like her are not likely to wait around for a man who has taken himself thousand of miles away from her. I'm sure there are plenty of other prospects in Colorado Springs. That nice young Sheriff, for example."

Preston set his jaw, determined to dignify the exchange no longer. "Good day to you Mrs O'Connor." He touched his hat and then strode away from her, seething more and more with every step.

**Colorado Springs**

"Course we're having Christmas at the café!" Grace exclaimed. "Wouldn't be Christmas in Colorado Springs if we didn't!" She looked sideways at Rebecca. "You thinking of joining us?"

"If it would be all right," Rebecca replied.

"Why wouldn't it be all right?" Grace turned back when the other woman didn't speak, "Are you all right, Rebecca?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine," Rebecca reassured her, blinking back tears.

Grace wiped her hands and approached her friend, placing her hands gently on Rebecca's upper arms, "You're missing Preston, ain't ya?" Rebecca looked at the ground. "Have you had any word from him recently?"

"Yes, yes of course," Rebecca replied, "but I…"

"What?"

"Nothing," she said finally, giving Grace her brightest smile, "I just wanted to check that I'd be welcome at any Christmas dinner here."

"Well you know you would be," Grace reassured her.

"Thank you." Rebecca turned her back and began walking back towards the boarding house. She was exhausted and every step was an effort and she longed to sink into a hot bath. But it would depend on who else wished such a luxury at the boarding house that evening. She hated it there. Living there felt as though she were living on someone else's charity.

Before common sense had won out, and reality taken over, she had imagined having Christmas at the farm with Preston. Nothing improper of course, but the thought of spending it with him had filled her with hope and happiness, like she hadn't known for so long. Now, that dream could no longer be. Indeed, she should never have allowed it to enter her head in the first place.

"Rebecca!" The sound of her name caused her to pause and turn to see Michaela coming out of the clinic and hurrying over. "Just the person I was hoping to see."

"Really?" Rebecca asked, feigning interest in a conversation, "How so?"

"Well I wanted to invite you to spend Christmas at the homestead with us this year."

"Oh…" she was slightly taken aback, "that's very kind of you Michaela but…"

"I don't want you to be in the boarding house by yourself and I know the children would love it. Especially Matthew." Rebecca caught a wry smile on her friend's face at this last sentence. Ever since Preston had left town, she knew that Michaela had been subtly trying to bring the two of them together, and while she knew that were she to entertain it, Matthew would do his best to make her happy, she knew she could never love him the way she loved Preston.

"Thank you Michaela but I've already agreed to have Christmas at the café this year. And even if I hadn't, Loren invited me to dine with him and Dorothy and it would have been rude to refuse them and then accept your offer."

"I see," Michaela said, "Well, it was just a thought."

"A kind one, thank you. But I'll be fine."

"You look pale," Michaela seized, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine," Rebecca replied brightly, "just tired after another long day toiling for Loren." She laughed to lighten the mood.

"Any recent attacks?"

"No," she replied abruptly. "If you'll excuse me Michaela, I have to go otherwise I'm liable to miss out on the lovely hot bath I've been dreaming about all afternoon."

"Of course," Michaela said, "take care of yourself."

"I will." Rebecca turned and walked in the direction of the boarding house. When she got into her room, she lay down on the bed and looked at the ceiling for a long time, thinking over everything. She had no home in Colorado Springs and no love to make her wait. Why was she remaining there at all? Perhaps the dawn of the New Year was the perfect opportunity to make a new start. Somewhere far away.

**Boston**

When he returned home that evening, Preston was in a much happier mood than he had been previously. It had been a fruitful day and there were several influential people very interested in investing out West. It was the most positive day he had had since returning to Boston and the one person he wanted to share it with was Rebecca.

Avoiding his mother, he hurried up to his bedroom and began writing a letter to her.

_My darling Rebecca,_

_I had to write to tell you that I am feeling more positive today than I have in some time. I met with some people today who seem extremely keen to invest in a bank out West and, indeed, in a bank run by a Lodge. I believe that this time apart may be shorter than I had feared. I predict that the New Year will be not long started before I am back with you, my love, and the ring which you returned to me is back on your finger again…_

A knock on his bedroom door caused his flow to end and, irritated, he pushed the paper underneath a book. "Yes?"

The door opened and his mother appeared. "Preston, I didn't realise you'd come home until the maid told me. Returning home seems to have made you resort to your old ways of sneaking about." Her tone was light but he took her meaning.

"I'm sorry Mother, but I had an important letter to write."

"To Miss McKendrick?"

"Yes," he replied guardedly.

Alice sat down on the edge of his bed. "I see. Your feelings for her remain strong then."

"Of course they do."

"I had wondered if your return home meant that…"

"It merely is to allow me to get investors for my own bank back in Colorado Springs, Mother. I have no intention in remaining here longer than I need to."

"Do you still intend to marry her?" Alice asked.

"Yes."

"Preston, I realise that you stopped listening to anything I had to say a long time ago but…you're my youngest son and I worry about you. I've always worried about you. You've tried so hard your whole life to keep up with your brothers and please your father and…"

"And now you realise that I never will?"

"It's not that your father and I don't understand what it is to be in love Preston, but you have to realise that it is not always just about love. There are other considerations to take into account too. Whilst you may not agree, position and propriety are two of them. The way others view your match is just as important as how you view it."

"Perhaps forty years ago Mother I might have agreed with you. Perhaps one year ago I might have agreed with you," Preston replied, "but I have to follow my heart." He paused. "Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Of course."

"Then be happy for me. I love Rebecca and I am going to marry her and bring her to Boston to meet all of you and then you'll all see just how wonderful she is. And we will have lots of children to continue the Lodge name."

"And are you sure that is what she wants too?"

Preston looked away, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I'm your mother, Preston. I can read your feelings. And I am also quite aware of how much mail leaves this house and hoe much comes in and I know that you are writing to Colorado Springs more than she is writing here." It was her turn to pause. "Could it not be that Miss McKendrick's affection has waned now that you have left town?"

"No," he replied fiercely, "it has not."

"Well…" his mother got to her feet, "You will be the best judge. I just don't want to see you have your heart broken, Preston." She reached forward and touched his face gently, "You are too important to me for that."

He waited until she had gone and then pulled the half-written letter out again. He stared at it for a long moment before crumpling it in his hand and throwing it in the wastepaper basket. Then, he took out a fresh sheet and wrote out a short telegram message. He would give it to the cook's son to run to the post office with before supper.

_Rebecca. I am coming back to you. I will leave Boston tomorrow. Preston._


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you to those sticking with this!!**

**December 23****rd**** 1870**

**Colorado Springs**

_"God rest ye merry gentlemen_

_Let nothing you dismay…"_

Rebecca stood at the window of her room in the boarding house and watched the carol singers who were gathered around the Christmas tree in the middle of the square. Men, women and children wrapped up against the biting December wind, cheeks and noses red from the cold and yet still singing at the top of their lungs, happy at the prospect of the holiday fast approaching.

If anything, her own mood had gone distinctly downhill over the last few days. Five days earlier she had received another telegram from Preston. This one had a more urgent feel to it and had indicated that he was intending returning to Colorado Springs immediately. Reading his words had filled her with a sense of dread. She couldn't face him, couldn't tell him the truth. Every time she thought about seeing him again she felt sick. Knowing that he was working so hard in Boston to build up his own bank so that he could come back to her, when she knew she could never give him what he wanted, weighed heavily on her. So she had written him a letter, explaining everything and telling him to find someone else. She had meant to mail it but hadn't quite worked up the nerve to do so. No matter, she would get it to him somehow.

But it wasn't only her relationship with Preston that was troubling her. In the last few days, she had suffered four terrifying attacks. One had even left her unconscious on the floor of her room for well over an hour. Desperate to stop them, Rebecca was taking more and more digitalis despite a voice in her head telling her that it couldn't be good for her.

She moved away from the window and sat down heavily on her bed. It had been a busy day at the store as people bought their last few bits and pieces for Christmas. She had been so tired afterwards that she had refused Loren's offer of a small glass of brandy and had immediately come back to the boarding house. Also refusing dinner, Mrs Brimble, the owner of the boarding house had brought her a sandwich an hour ago but it lay untouched on the bedside table. She had no energy and no appetite and wished she could simply close her eyes and drift away somewhere…anywhere but Colorado Springs…

Michaela and Sully were standing watching the carol singers. Wrapped up in a thick woollen jacket, Sully's arms around her expanding waistline, Michaela had never felt happier or more secure and she couldn't wait for this first Christmas as Mrs Byron Sully.

Tearing her gaze away from the sight for a brief moment, she caught sight of the light on at Rebecca's window and her smile slipped. She was worried about the younger woman and had been for some considerably time. Every time she had come across Rebecca over the last few weeks she had appeared even thinner and paler than ever and Michaela was worried it was a mixture of Preston's absence and her condition.

"Michaela?"

Sully's voice jolted her back to reality, "Sorry?"

"I asked if you were warm enough," he repeated.

"Oh…I'm fine, yes," she replied.

He turned her in his embrace to face her, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, but seeing his face, she relented, "Well, I'm worried about Rebecca. She's looked terrible these last few weeks and…"

"And you want to go over there and find out if she's all right?" Michaela nodded. "Come on, I'll come with you."

They made their way over to the boarding house and into the lobby where they met Mrs Brimble coming down the stairs.

"Good evening Doctor Quinn!" She greeted her, "Sully."

"Good evening," Michaela replied, "I was looking for Rebecca. I take it she's in her room?"

"Yes, poor thing," Mrs Brimble confided, lowering her voice, "She's been as miserable as anything these last few weeks. I expect it's her young man going back to Boston that's done it. She refused dinner this evening and she's been holed up in her room since she came back from work."

Michaela frowned, "I'm worried about her. Do you mind?" She gestured up the stairs.

"No of course not."

Michaela climbed the stairs, Sully behind her. When she reached the door of Rebecca's room, she knocked lightly, "Rebecca? It's Michaela, can I come in?" There was no immediate response so she knocked again, "Rebecca?" Again, nothing. She looked at Sully.

"Try the door," he said.

Turning the handle revealed the door to be unlocked and Michaela pushed it gently open. "Rebecca…?"

**Christmas Eve**

His mother's words still played over and over in Preston's mind as he sat on the train.

"But you can't leave now!" She had exclaimed, "It's almost Christmas!"

He had tried explaining to her that he had to get back to Rebecca, that something inside made him feel as if he should be with her. She had shaken her head and looked disappointed, but in the end she had wished him well. His father had said very little, but Preston didn't care. All he wanted was to be back in Colorado Springs and to hold Rebecca in his arms again.

The train pulled into the station and Preston found himself straining to look out of the window to see if Rebecca happened to be meeting the train. There were plenty of people waiting on the platform, but none of them were his fiancée. Slightly downcast, he lifted his luggage and prepared to disembark. He had received no response to his telegram telling Rebecca he was coming back, but had thought she might have met him. As he climbed down from the train, he came face to face with Horace.

"Horace," Preston greeted the other man with his usual reservation.

"Preston!" Horace replied, his eyes wide with shock, "You're…you're back."

"Well of course I'm back," Preston replied sarcastically, "You didn't expect me to spend Christmas away from Rebecca now, did you?"

"Rebecca…oh…no, no I didn't…I…" Horace glanced surreptitiously behind him as though looking for help from someone. "I guess I'm just wondering how you know. I sure didn't send you a telegram."

"How I know what?" Preston replied distractedly, checking his pocket watch.

"Well…about Rebecca."

He looked up, "What about Rebecca?"

"She's…well she's…" Horace took a deep breath, "She's real sick."

The blood drained from Preston's face and he felt a chill go through him, "Sick?"

Horace nodded, "She collapsed yesterday and Dr Mike's been keeping her at the clinic but…" he didn't get a chance to finish as Preston took off like a shot, running away from the station back up towards the clinic, his luggage discarded behind him.

Upon reaching the door of the clinic, he barrelled inside, without bothering to knock, and came face to face with Michaela who was sat at her desk.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"Preston…I take it you've heard…"

"Is she upstairs?!" He ignored Michaela's protestations and threw open the inner door, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time. He could hear Michaela following close behind and he threw open the first door he came to only to find it empty. By the time he made to open the second, Michaela had managed to get in front of him and stood with her back to the door, preventing him going any further.

"Preston, please listen to me…"

"Is Rebecca in there?" he asked. Michaela nodded, "Then let me past!"

"I can't," Michaela replied.

"Why not?" he asked, "She's _my _fiancée and I demand to see her now!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Preston, but…she doesn't want to see you."

Preston stared at her uncomprehendingly, "What? Don't be silly I…" he made to move past her again, but again she stopped him.

"She said so specifically."

"I don't understand," he said. She steered him to one of the chairs located in the corridor whereupon he sat and she sat beside him.

"Rebecca has a heart condition," she began, "a very serious heart condition. It's what has caused her to feel dizzy and unwell for all these months and for many more before she came back here."

"But…she's all right?" he asked, "I mean, she's not going to die…is she?"

"Sully and I found her unconscious in her room at the boarding house yesterday," she continued, "From what I understand from Mrs Brimble, it's not the first time. The number and severity of her attacks are increasing, Preston and…" she trailed off. "The heart is such a complex organ…"

"No…" he said, his voice catching in his throat, "No, you can't be telling me…"

"I don't know what the future holds for her," Michaela explained softly, "but Rebecca isn't a fool and she knows her own mind." She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. In handing it to him, he could see that it was addressed to him in Boston in Rebecca's handwriting. "I found this in her room at the boarding house," she explained, "I believe she meant to mail it to you before this most recent attack."

He looked at her, "Have you _read _this?"

"Of course not," she reassured him, "but I think you should." Michaela got to her feet. "I'll be with Rebecca when you've finished." She opened the door to the second room and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

With trembling fingers, Preston opened the envelope and pulled out the pages, his heart jumping at the sight of her familiar handwriting.

_My darling Preston,_

_For years, as I grew up in Colorado Springs, and when I moved to Boston for schooling, I dreamed of finding a man like you. Someone who loved me, and wanted to marry me, and spend his life with me. Someone I could in turn provide a home for and bear children for. Someone I could grow old with. I never thought I would ever meet a man who could make me want to do those things for him and, latterly, I told myself that I never should._

_I should have told you this long ago when we first met, but initially, I did not view our relationship as being any more than one of friendship. You were the banker, set on taking away my home and you had a fiancée who made it very clear to me where her feelings lay. By the time I had come to realise that we meant something more to each other and you were asking me to marry you…it was almost too late to say anything and though I knew I should, part of me didn't want to._

_The truth is, I have a serious heart condition. It was this very condition which killed my mother in childbirth. Unknowingly, and unwillingly, I inherited it. I have been examined by doctors in Boston, and by Michaela, who have all told me the same thing; that it may kill me one day unexpectedly. After the diagnosis, I told myself that I couldn't live my life always wondering when that moment might come, that I had to build as best a life as I could, and so I tried to live life in the moment and not dwell on what might be. That is partly the reason why I came back to rescue the farm. _

_But the doctors also told me of the things I should avoid so as not to provoke a potentially fatal attack…and one of those is having children of my own. I was told that a pregnancy and a birth could well kill me as they did my mother, so I vowed never to fall in love, for what man would want a wife who couldn't bear him children?_

_My darling, I know that marriage and children are important to you, not least to carry on the Lodge name and to make your family proud of you. As time passed, I could see that more and more in your eyes and I knew that I had to do something before we were married and it was too late. Your return to Boston, though painful, gave me the perfect opportunity. I hoped once there that your affection for me might wane and that I would never have to take the initiative and tell you the truth, but your letters to me proved otherwise. You spoke so lovingly of our future together and I didn't know how to respond. So, I stopped writing back to you, ignored your protestations of love and hoped, perhaps strangely, that a charming Bostonian woman might capture your heart again. I told myself that I could take your rejection, even though in all honesty it would rip my heart in two._

_I see now that you will not reject me by your own doing and therefore I have to give you the reason. I love you more than anything, but I have to let you go. I cannot marry you and make a life with you under these conditions. I cannot lie with you, though I confess I ache to do so. Please don't come back. Stay in Boston, for if you do return to Colorado Springs, I will be forced to leave it._

_Please know that I will always love you and carry the memory of the time we have shared together forever._

_Rebecca_

He read it twice, to be sure of her words, and it was only when he finished it for a second time that he realised he was crying. After composing himself, he tapped quietly on the door of the room and, a few moments later, Michaela appeared. He made to speak, but she spoke first.

"I told her I had given you her letter," she said, "She wants to see you now." Preston paused then nodded slightly. Michaela stepped out of the doorway. "I'll be downstairs." Silently, she made her way back down the clinic.

Taking a deep breath, Preston pushed open the door to the room and stepped inside. Rebecca was propped up on the pillows, her face deathly pale, her hair cascading down around her shoulders. When she saw him, she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"Let me speak first," he said harshly. "You've had your say in your letter." He held up the sheets of paper. "How did you think I would feel when I read this?" Rebecca shook her head wordlessly. "Did you think about me at all? Or were you really just thinking about yourself?"

"What?" she whispered, a look of surprise on her face.

"You thought I would just read this and walk away from you? That I would make it nice and easy for you?" She didn't say anything, merely looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. "You think that by telling me all this, it changes the way I feel about you?"

"No," she whispered again.

"Then what?" he demanded angrily, "What did you want me to do with this?" She shook her head. "I love you so…intensely that sometimes I can hardly breathe for thinking about it!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward and crouching beside the bed, "I have spent nights alone in Boston over the last few months thinking about you. Wishing you were there by my side, imagining what it would be like to hold you against me, right there in my bed…"

"Stop it…" she said, turning her face away, embarrassed to admit that she had shared those thoughts.

"I know you've felt the same," he continued, "You said so in your letter." He quickly scanned the pages. "_I cannot lie with you, though I confess I ache to do so._"

"Please don't…" she begged, "I was never meant to hear my words repeated to me."

"Well you _will _hear them!" He replied, "I'll read every damn word back to you if it will change your mind! Do you really think a little thing like this would change how I feel about you?!"

Rebecca turned back to face him, "A little thing like that? Preston, think of what you've just said. Thoughts of me…with you in your bed…don't you see that it's those feelings that could lead to a potentially unhappy ending for both of us?" She sighed, "I could never fully give myself to you knowing that I could conceive and…and what marriage is complete without that?"

"We would be careful," he interrupted her, "I'm sure there must be ways to prevent pregnancy. I'm sure Michaela knows…"

"And what if they didn't work? What if I fell pregnant?"

"Then I would make sure you had the best medical care money could buy!"

"And would you be grateful for that medical care when you were left a widower with a child?"

"Damn it I don't care!" he shouted and tears sprang into his eyes. "I don't care about any of that! I just want _you_!"

"Preston…" Rebecca lifted her hand and rested it against his cheek, her heart overflowing with love for him, her body aching for him to hold her. "You are the dearest, sweetest man…"

"Then _marry _me!"

"I can't," she said.

"You can, you just won't!"

Rebecca closed her eyes, "Please Preston…please just go."

"No!"

"Please go now…" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"But…" the door opened suddenly and Michaela appeared.

"Preston, I think that's enough for now," she said, "Rebecca needs to rest if she's going to fully recover."

Preston got to his feet and moved to the door. When he reached it, he turned back. "This isn't over, Rebecca. If you think I'm going to let you go so easily, you're mistaken."

When the door had closed behind them, Rebecca opened her eyes again and immediately started to cry.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you for the reviews!**

"Why is she doing this?" Preston asked as he opened the door of the clinic and stepped out into the cold night air.

Michaela stepped out after him and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "I don't know," she replied, "but I suppose she must have her reasons."

His gaze slipped from her face to her protruding stomach. "It doesn't matter to me, you know. Children, that is. I thought it would but…it doesn't. Michaela," he stepped closer to her, "there are ways, aren't there?"

"Ways?"

"To prevent…well, to…you know…prevent children?"

"Oh…well, yes there are but…"

"I thought so," he interrupted her triumphantly. "Perhaps you could tell Rebecca that."

"Preston, I'm not…"

"Please."

She saw the earnestness in his expression and softened. "I'll certainly mention it to her."

"And maybe…you could try and get her to see…"

Michaela held up her hand, stopping him. "Preston, this is between you and Rebecca. I can't interfere."

"Of course not," he accepted, "I understand. Are you staying in town this evening?"

"Yes, I want to keep an eye on her. Sully and the children will be fine at the homestead. And you?"

"Oh, well I'll be staying at the boarding house," he replied.

"I see."

"Perhaps I should come back tomorrow to wish Rebecca a happy Christmas," he continued, "perhaps she might have…" he broke off.

"Perhaps."

"Well, good night Michaela." He touched his hat and then turned to walk over to the boarding house.

Michaela watched him go, feeling a mixture of pity and regret. Then, she turned and went back into the clinic and upstairs to Rebecca's room. The lamp was still lit and the younger woman opened her eyes when she entered the room.

"Is he gone?" she asked, her voice thick with tears.

"Yes, he's gone over to the boarding house. He said he might come by tomorrow."

Rebecca sighed, "I don't want him to. I just want him to leave me alone."

Michaela sat down on the edge of the bed, "I think it's obvious that he loves you. Any fool could see that."

"I know he does."

"Marriages don't have to produce children."

Rebecca snorted, "What man doesn't want to have a family?"

"It doesn't matter to some men," Michaela argued, "look at Grace and Robert E."

"That's different," Rebecca argued, "Grace can't have children at all. I can. I just shouldn't."

"You know, there are ways to prevent pregnancy. I would be able to give you a number of…"

"And what if they didn't work? Accidents must happen, surely?"

"Well yes, but…"

"Then I can't take that risk." Rebecca put her head back and stared at the ceiling.

Michaela reached out for her hand, "What happened to your mother might not happen to you. Every woman is different."

"The doctors in Boston told me…"

"Doctors aren't right all of the time." Rebecca looked at her disbelievingly. "It's true. There have been many times when I've been wrong. And if you were to become pregnant I would monitor you as thoroughly as possible."

"But I still might die giving birth."

"Well…" Michaela searched for an answer, "it's possible that a caesarean section could be done around the time you were due to give birth. That should greatly reduce the risks." Rebecca shook her head stubbornly. "What about adopting a child?"

"I'm not sure I could raise another woman's child, besides I can't imagine Preston every agreeing to that."

"So what are you going to do?"

Rebecca looked at her, "What do you mean?"

"You don't have the farm anymore, you don't want to be with Preston anymore…are you just going to work at Loren's store and be on your own for the rest of your life?"

"I suppose so."

Michaela sighed and stood up, "Then I think you're making a mistake."

"You don't have what I have," Rebecca replied bitterly, "You can't say that."

"Maybe not," she conceded, "but I know that I would rather have Sully's love and companionship for a little while than never have it at all." She moved to the door. "Goodnight. I'll be in the next room if you need me." With that, she opened the door and stepped outside, closing it gently behind her.

XXXX

As Christmas Eve rolled into Christmas Day, Preston found that he couldn't sleep. For a good two hours he lay in his bed at the boarding house watching the moonlight cast upon his wall. His mind turned over and over, refusing to allow his weary body to sleep. Eventually, he got out of bed, dressed and left the boarding house, convincing himself that a brisk walk in the cold night air would help him.

The town was silent save for the occasional breath of wind. It was, however, bitterly cold and he pulled his coat around him for warmth. As he started to walk down the street towards the meadow, he glanced up at the upper floors of the clinic. They were in complete darkness but, as he passed, he heard the distinct sound of creaking wood. Stopping and peering up into the darkness, he caught sight of someone sitting on the balcony in a rocking chair.

"Rebecca?" he ventured. The rocking immediately stopped and no-one corrected him, so he assumed it must be her, "Rebecca, are you all right?"

"Go away," came the soft reply.

"Please," he stepped forward, "please talk to me." The figure stood up and he saw that she was dressed only in a white nightgown. "You'll catch your death!" he exclaimed.

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed in response, "You'll wake the whole town."

Preston paused, unsure of what to say next. Rebecca made no move to go back into her room. "Merry Christmas," he finally offered.

"Is it morning already?"

"Barely."

She paused, "Merry Christmas to you too."

"About earlier…" he began.

"Don't," she interrupted him quickly, "We've said all we have to say."

"Perhaps you have, but I haven't!" he retorted.

"I said, keep your voice down!" she hissed again.

"Well, let me come in then!"

"No."

"Rebecca, please!" he begged, "Hear what I have to say and then if you still want me to leave you alone I will." She didn't reply. "Please."

"All right," she said eventually, "wait there."

He hurried over to stand at the door to the clinic and, after what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open. He stepped inside into the darkness and promptly walked straight into the coat stand."

"Be careful!" Rebecca said, but there was a hint of mirth in her tone. After a few moments, light filled the room and he realised that she had lit one of the lamps. She stood a few feet away from him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You _are _freezing," he said, stepping towards her and shrugging off his coat, "Here, put this on."

"I'm fine."

"Put it on!" he insisted. She nodded and he pulled it about her shoulders and around her body, his fingers gently brushing her jaw as he brought it up around her neck. His insides leapt and she stepped back quickly, so he knew hers had too.

"Thank you," she said.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied honestly.

Rebecca looked away, "I couldn't sleep either."

"I was thinking about you."

She pulled his coat tighter around her, protecting herself from him. "Say what you have to say, Preston."

"I will," he replied decisively. "Everything you said earlier about what would happen if you were to have a child? It was all said under an assumption."

"What assumption?"

"That I actually want to have a child."

"Preston…"

"To be honest with you, I find children rather cumbersome. You can't do what you want to do if you have children because you have to think about them first. They're noisy, smelly, difficult to control and cause you no end of problems, as I'm sure my own parents can testify. Not to mention the fact that, as I understand it, they ruin a woman's figure."

Rebecca smiled in spite of herself, "I see."

"I actually can't think of anything worse than to have a child. Besides, I'm a businessman. I want to come home of an evening to a nice dinner and a pleasant wife, not a couple of screaming brats who insist on my undivided attention and willingness to play ridiculous games. Indeed, I would go as far as to say, that if I had my way, children would be outlawed in this town."

"You're lying," Rebecca laughed.

"I'm not," he replied.

"You are," she insisted, "but I appreciate the gesture."

"All right, perhaps the part about outlawing children in Colorado Springs was a little exaggeration, but the rest is true. I don't care about having a family, Rebecca. I only want to be with you."

"It's not the actual fact of having a child," she said, walking over to the window, "it's the fear I would have, every time, in case of an accident."

"Didn't Michaela tell you that there are ways to prevent pregnancy?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted, "yes she did."

"Well then."

She turned back to face him, "You are nothing if not persistent."

He came and stood right in front of her. "Faint heart never won fair maiden."

She smiled, "Am I supposed to be the fair maiden?"

"You are more things than I could ever give voice to." He reached out and placed his palm against her cheek. "I would make you happy for as much time as we're allowed together."

Rebecca felt herself relenting, felt her insides churn, her body quiver at his touch. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and placed her hand on his chest. Preston, taking this as a sign of acceptance, closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him.

"My darling," he murmured against her hair. "My darling, darling Rebecca…"

She pressed her lips against his neck, planting kisses until he pulled back and lowered his head so that his mouth could meet hers. Their kiss was deep and meaningful and she slipped her arms around his neck to pull him closer to her. He in turn slid his hand up from her waist to rest just below the swell of her breast causing her to gasp against him.

"Preston…" she pulled back from him, her face flushed.

"Forgive me," he said, cupping her face in his hands, "I'm not sure I have the ability to control myself." He kissed her again and she melted into him.

"You will just have to try," she said, when they had broken free again.

"Anything for you," he replied.

She looked into his eyes, "Ask me."

He looked confused, "Ask you what?"

"Ask me to marry you," she replied with a slow smile.

"Rebecca McKendrick," he said, "will you marry me?"

"Yes," she replied, and this time there was no reservation. "Now, where's that beautiful ring?"

"It's at the boarding house," he replied, "along with your Christmas present."

"Present?" her smile slipped, "Oh, but…I didn't…I mean…"

"You've already given me my present," he stopped her. "I think a June wedding would be perfect, don't you?"

"Yes," she replied, "but not here."

Preston frowned, "Not here?"

"No, and not in Boston either." She wrapped her arms around his waist again, "Take me away from here."

"Away?" he echoed, "but…I just came back…and the bank…"

"I don't mean forever," she explained, "but I don't want to be married here or in Boston. I want to go somewhere where it's just us, where no-one else knows who we are or what our backgrounds are or what our problems are or anything like that. Please," she begged, "please Preston."

He smiled down indulgently at her, "How could I possibly refuse you?" He bent to kiss her again when the door leading upstairs opened and Michaela appeared, lamp in hand.

"Rebecca!" she exclaimed upon seeing them. "Preston!"

"Michaela!" he greeted her, "Merry Christmas! You can be the first to congratulate us!"

"On what?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Darling?" he prompted Rebecca.

"Preston and I are to be married," she explained, "he has asked me again and I've said yes."

"Well that's…that's wonderful!" Michaela said, hurrying forward to embrace her friend, "but I thought…why the sudden change of heart?"

"You were right in what you said," Rebecca said, "Better to have loved and lost…and all that."

"I'm glad," Michaela said, squeezing her arm, "and I hate to break up the celebration but you should be in bed."

"Yes indeed!" Preston leapt forward, "Rebecca, you should go straight back to bed forthwith. How remiss of me!"

Rebecca turned back into his embrace, "I don't want to be parted from you," she whispered.

"And you never will be," he whispered in return. "But Michaela's right," he added louder, "you need your rest." He pulled back from her, "but I'll be here first thing in the morning. And, if you feel like it, I can bring you a plate of turkey from Grace's."

"I'd like that," she replied.

"Bed," Michaela said, "now."

"Yes doctor," Rebecca laughed before kissing Preston one final time. "Until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he echoed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you to those who are still following this and especially to those who have reviewed on my other active story and have mentioned this one (DQFan21 and Gina). I'm sorry I'm so lax about this one but I keep having blocks and then suddenly, I sit down and blitz some Preston episodes and I'm back on track. Please, please, please keep reading and reviewing. I will get to the end eventually!!**

**J****anuary 3****rd**** 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

"I insist you come and stay at the bank."

"You don't own it, remember?"

"Actually I do. I've used the last few days well and reached an agreement with Henry that I can have the building for a deferred consideration."

"Deferred?"

"Well, he _is _my brother at the end of the day and I do believe James appealed to his sense of decency."

"But you can't possibly have signed anything yet."

"Not yet, but soon. Very soon."

"In that case, I shall return to the boarding house as anticipated."

"But…"

"Preston, aside from the fact that you don't yet own the building, there are only two rooms fit as living quarters and I don't intend to raise the eyebrows of the people in this town any more than they already have been."

It was the third day of the New Year and Michaela had agreed that Rebecca could leave the clinic and return to the boarding house. Over the last week, her condition had improved dramatically. Her colour and energy had come back, as had the sparkle in her eyes, although Michaela had commented that that was most likely due more to her reconciliation with Preston than anything else.

"Then I shall also take up residence in the boarding house." Preston declared.

"Absolutely not! That's almost as bad!"

"It's a boarding house," he argued, "There are other men living there."

"I'm not interested in what other men live there. You will stay in the bank and I will stay in the boarding house until we are married and that is an end to it."

"It was you who suggested this arrangement before I left for Boston!"

"Well now I've changed my mind. I don't trust you," she turned to face him, a wry smile on her face, "Or myself."

"Then how are you to manage?" he demanded, missing the somewhat suggestive meaning of her previous comment.

"I don't need a nanny, Preston."

"I _know _that you don't need a nanny," he sighed. "Am I ever to change your mind?"

"No," she replied, good-naturedly, stepping into his embrace, spying with pleasure the glint of the diamond ring now happily ensconced back on her finger.

"And is this stubbornness and refusal to listen to me an indication of the course our marriage will take?"

Rebecca leaned back and smiled up at him, "Perhaps."

He bent and kissed her lightly, "Then I shall have to use a firm hand to keep you in check."

Before Rebecca could reply, there was a light knock on the door and Michaela appeared. "I see you're ready to go," she observed as they pulled away from each other.

"Eager to leave," Rebecca said, "no offence intended, Michaela, of course."

"None taken," she replied lightly, "I'm just pleased to see you looking so well again."

"And feeling it too," Rebecca replied, smiling at Preston.

"I wanted to talk to you about your medication," Michaela said.

"I'll leave you two ladies to discuss it," Preston said, lifting his hat from the bed.

"You don't have to," Rebecca said.

"I have to make a start on the bank at _some _point," he replied.

"I'd prefer it if you stayed." He saw the earnestness in her expression and nodded his acquiescence. "Go on Michaela."

"Well, digitalis is obviously the best medicine you can take for your condition," Michaela explained, "but I'm concerned about the quantity you were taking before this most recent episode. I know that you must have been taking more than I had recommended."

Rebecca lowered her eyes, "Yes, I was."

"You didn't tell me this!" Preston chided her, "How much were you taking?"

"As much as I thought I needed to stop the attacks."

"Far too much, clearly," he said.

"Well it wasn't as if you were here to help me, were you?" she snapped, harsher than she had intended. A flicker crossed his face and she felt immediately cowed, "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean that, truly I didn't." She held out her hand to him and he clasped it in his own.

"You must only take one dosage of digitalis if you have an attack," Michaela continued, "that's vitally important otherwise you may find yourself in the same situation again, or worse." Rebecca nodded her understanding. "I'd also like you try some of this." She held out a small pouch. Rebecca took it from her and poured the contents out onto her hand.

"Leaves?" she said, confused.

"Gumshoe leaves," Michaela explained, "It's a remedy that the Indians use. I spoke with Cloud Dancing about your condition and he said…"

"Indian remedy?" Preston interrupted, his tone contemptuous, "Michaela, I'm sure that Rebecca is grateful for your advice, but this is 1871 and I think we can do a little better than Indian remedies."

"It's proven extremely effective."

"I'm sure it has…on the Indians," he replied, "Rebecca, I know that Michaela is doing her best for you here, but I happen to know a very good doctor in Denver who would be more than happy to…"

"No," Rebecca interrupted.

Preston looked at her, "No?"

"No," she repeated. "I live in Colorado Springs and Michaela is my doctor. I'm not about to start traipsing all over the frontier to speak to this doctor and that doctor about my health."

"Doctor Forrest is eminent in his field and when I wired him to ask…"

"You sent him a telegram about me?"

"I merely thought it would be a good idea to make sure that we had all the right information."

"I didn't ask you to do that, Preston," Rebecca replied angrily, "I'm perfectly happy with the care and attention I've received here and intend to go on receiving here."

"Well, if you'll forgive me, I think you're being a little foolish."

"Foolish?" Rebecca looked at Michaela. "I'm sorry Michaela, but would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Of course not," she replied, "I'll be downstairs if you need me." Silently, she left the room.

"Don't you ever accuse me of being foolish," Rebecca turned to Preston.

"I only meant…"

"I know what you meant," she said, her eyes dark with anger. "Preston, I may have agreed to marry you but that doesn't mean that I'm about to relinquish control of all aspects of my life to you. I have been an independent woman for many years and I intend to continue making my own decisions!"

"About what?" he replied.

"About…about my health and…"

"Traditionally, when a man and woman marry, it is the husband who takes on the role of provider and decision-maker," he interrupted her.

"So, what are you suggesting? That I have to bow to your opinion on everything from the moment we're married?"

"Rebecca, you have to admit that women like yourself and Michaela…"

"Women like myself and Michaela?"

"…do find themselves at the centre of town gossip from time to time. I don't wish to be cruel or patronising my darling but, you have to know, from the moment you arrived back in town people were talking about you and about your taking over the farm and not everyone was complimentary."

"Including yourself I have no doubt."

"Of course not," he replied, "you know how much I admired you for what you were doing. But it is an inevitable part of life that people talk and I don't want people to think of you as some…some hot-headed young woman…"

"You mean that you don't want them to think about _your wife_ that way," she interrupted him. "That's the truth of it, isn't it? You told me that you admired what I was doing and the way I was doing it and then the moment you have me locked in matrimony you want to change me. I thought you loved me for the woman I am, not the woman you wanted me to be?"

"I do," he said, stepping towards her and placing his hands on her arms, "You must believe that I do. But, if this were Boston…"

"But it isn't Boston, Preston, that's the point!" Rebecca shook herself free from him. "You didn't want a woman from Boston! If you had, you could have married Helen whenever you wanted to but you chose not to."

"You're missing the point," he said.

"Am I? Well, obviously my perspective is very different from yours!"

"Obviously!"

They glared at each other for a long moment, each sure in their own minds of being right. Both acutely aware of how quickly the fragile reconciliation had cracked.

After a long moment, Rebecca sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily, "Preston, I don't want to fight with you. I haven't the energy for it. A moment ago we were laughing about my stubbornness and refusal to listen to you."

He sat on the bed beside her, "I don't want to fight either. Not when I've only just won you back." He clasped her hand in his. "There are going to be many things that we are not going to agree on and I suppose we simply have to learn to respect each other's opinion on them."

Rebecca met his gaze, "I'm not a woman to be ruled completely by her husband."

He smiled ruefully, "Forgive me. There are many things I was glad to leave behind in Boston but perhaps I have, unwittingly, brought many of them with me too. You're right. I don't want you to be some pampered, ignorant woman who is only fit to sit in a parlour and be a congenial host. I could have had that with any number of women back home. I _do _like your fire and your independence." He raised her hand and kissed it. "But I have to confess there is a part of me that simply wants to protect you."

"I know that," she replied softly, "and I welcome it. But I have to be allowed a voice, an opinion."

"I see that," he nodded, "and I promise to do my best to allow you to have it."

"Well," she said, reaching over and kissing him on the cheek, "I suppose that will have to do for now."

**February 9****th**** 1871**

**Boston**

"Lodge."

Preston Senior looked up from the newspaper he was reading in his club and saw, partly to his dismay, Albert Draper looking down at him, glass in hand. He looked as though it wasn't his first. "Albert," he greeted him congenially, "Good to see you."

"Hmm." Albert sat down opposite and put his whisky on the table. "Business going well?"

"Yes thank you," Preston Senior replied, slightly curious at the question.

"Good, good," Albert drained his whisky. "And…eh…how's your youngest getting on in that godforsaken backwater?"

"Preston? Fine, as far as I know."

"I understand that he's intending opening his own bank there."

"Indeed," Preston Senior replied mildly, "that would appear to be his plan. I understand he has some rather influential investors behind him."

"And you're happy with that, are you?" Albert peered at him.

"As happy as a father can be under these circumstances, I suppose."

"Has he married that farm girl yet?"

Preston Senior bristled slightly, "Not yet. I understand from James that she's been quite ill."

"Sickly sort," Albert nodded knowingly, "Never a good match. Not like my Helen. Fit as a fiddle she is."

"Yes, I heard that congratulations were in order for Mrs O'Connor," Preston Senior commented.

"Yes, well…" Albert looked away. "Anyway, must go, Lodge. People to see, things to do, you know how it is."

"Well…yes." Preston Senior watched as Albert made his way back towards the door and couldn't help thinking how curious the whole exchange had been.

**February 14****th**** 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

"Now you're sure you're not cold?" Preston asked as he climbed into the surrey.

"You've already asked me that about ten times since we left the boarding house," Rebecca replied, "I'm fine."

"And you're feeling well?"

"Preston…"

"I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hand, "I promise I won't ask again." Clicking the reins, he sent the horse moving and they began winding their way from the bank, down towards the meadow and the open land beyond. As they did so, she couldn't help casting a wistful glance in the direction of the road to the farm. It still stood, unsold, slowly giving in to the ravages of neglect again. It was the only rub in her new found happiness.

Pushing those thoughts to one side, Rebecca thought about how glad she was to be getting out of town, if only to spend time alone with Preston. Living in the boarding house meant there was no question of any privacy for them and every time she entered the bank, she couldn't help feeling a thousand pairs of eyes on her back. Out here, in the open air, they could be together with no-one to trouble them.

There had been no repetition of the argument they had had the previous month. Both had appeared to reach a silent understanding of the other. Rebecca accepted that he was a man and that his natural instinct was to protect and shield her. Preston accepted that she was a woman who needed neither.

"I received a telegram from my father today," he divulged after a few moments of companionable silence.

"Really? What did it say?"

"He said he had heard about my investors and that he wished me well in my new venture."

"Is that all?"

"It's better than nothing at all, don't you think?"

"Yes," she agreed. "It might have been nice if he had acknowledged that it was his own actions which led you to have to undertake this new venture."

"Believe me I'm happier running my own bank than I ever was being affiliated with National Trust."

"You haven't started running it yet," she reminded him.

"It's nice to know I have your unending support."

"You do, of course you do," she replied, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. Nothing more was said until they reached the picnic spot whereupon Preston drew the horse to a halt and then came around the surrey to help her down. "It's beautiful here," she commented, gazing around her at the view. "We haven't been out this way before, have we?"

"No," he replied, retrieving the blanket and picnic basket, "but I wanted to bring you out here today so that you could see if you liked it."

"Why wouldn't I like it?"

"It's the view you'll be looking at every day, so you must like it."

She frowned, "I don't understand."

"I purchased this land only yesterday," he declared, "and I'm going to have the finest house these parts have ever seen built on it."

Rebecca was taken aback, "A house? Here?"

"What else?" he replied, "You didn't think we were going to live in the bank, did you?"

"Well I…"

"Of course not," he interrupted her, leaping forward and taking her hand, "Come and sit down." He helped her down onto the blanket, "Now, won't that be a beautiful view from our bedroom."

"But, what about the land where the Kissing Tree was?" she asked, "I thought you had planned to build there."

"It's not large enough for my purposes," he replied, "besides, it appeared to anger so many people in town than I thought it best to leave it be. Here we can have a house to surpass all others."

Rebecca gazed out over the landscape in front of her. It certainly _would _be a beautiful view. "Preston, we don't need to have a grand house. Not just for the two of us." She said the last sentence carefully.

"Nonsense," he said, "I think it's perfect." She didn't reply and he turned to look at her, "But if you don't like it…"

"No, it's not that I don't like it. I just…" she wasn't sure what she was trying to say. "It's beautiful."

He grinned at her, confident that he had won her round, "I knew you would like it. And it will only be a mile or two from my resort. Our resort," he added hurriedly.

"You've only just started to re-establish the bank," she said, "isn't it a little early to be thinking about the resort too?"

Preston shook his head stubbornly, "Not at all. One must aim high after all."

"Yes, I suppose one must," she murmured.

"I'm sorry," Preston said, sensing her reluctance, "I didn't bring you out here on Valentine's Day to talk about business." He shifted closer to her on the blanket and gently fingered the delicate buttons which began at the nape of her dress and travelled down to just below her chest. "I'm not sure if I told you earlier how beautiful you look today."

"You didn't," she replied.

"How remiss of me," he murmured, his fingers gently sliding up her neck to draw her chin round to face him. "You look exquisite." She laughed gently before their mouths met. After a long moment, he pulled back from her, his breathing shallow, "Perhaps June is too far away," he commented.

Rebecca could feel a pulsation in her abdomen and her nipples peaked and straining against the fabric of her dress. How she longed for his hands to explore her body, to satisfy her in ways she had only ever dreamt about but were now creeping closer. Meeting his gaze, she could see the barely controlled desire in his eyes and knew he would be seeing the same in her own. How simple it would be to give in to it now. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, how was anyone to ever know?

They kissed again, more forcefully, and Preston slowly began to undo the row of buttons. Rebecca made no move to stop him. Three, four, five…they all slipped out easily, the removal of each one revealing another small expanse of flesh until there was enough room for his fingers to slip gently inside and meet the eager, burning flesh therein. As his hand skimmed the swell of her breast, Rebecca shuffled closer to him on the blanket, gasping slightly against his mouth as his fingers gently found the hardness of her right nipple and his thumb grazed agonisingly over it.

"Hey Rebecca! Mr Lodge!" Rebecca and Preston sprang apart as Brian careered out of nowhere and appeared in front of them. "Sorry," he said, "didn't mean to interrupt ya kissin'."

"Hello Brian," Preston coughed while Rebecca discreetly tried to redo the buttons. "What…uh…brings you out this way?"

"Me and Sully were fishing down at the lake when we saw this really rare bird. Sully said he 'ain't seen one before, but it flew off before I could get a good look. So I followed it up here. But I reckon I lost it. Anyway," he grinned, "I best go before Sully thinks I've got lost. See you Rebecca!"

"Bye Brian," she offered weakly as he turned and ran back down the hill and into the trees. He was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

"I swear, the first thing I am going to build is a fence," Preston said. "A big one."

"I believe it just goes to show that when the time comes for us to finally be together," Rebecca said, "the only safe place will be in our bed." She was surprised at how freely the words came out of her mouth.

"Perhaps until then we should refrain from such…free activity," Preston said, a small smile on his face.

"Indeed," Rebecca lifted a glass of wine that was sat next to her and took a long drink in an effort to cool the heat burning within her, "Happy Valentine's Day."


	24. Chapter 24

**A second chapter in less than a week! You lucky people :)**

**March 24****th**** 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

"Do you have everything ready for the wedding?" Michaela asked Rebecca as they ate lunch at Grace's.

"Almost," Rebecca replied, "most of the arrangements are made. I just can't wait for the day itself." It was an understatement in itself. With each passing day she grew more and more excited about the prospect of being Preston's wife and finally being able to indulge in the passion which had ignited on their last picnic. When she closed her eyes at night she could still feel the sensation of his hand on her breast and it quite often drove her wild. It would be fair to say that her fears of falling pregnant were wedged firmly at the back of her mind.

"June 10th, you don't have long to wait."

"No, although it feels like forever," Rebecca laughed.

"It'll come before you know it," Michaela said, "And you're still of the opinion that Denver is the best place to get married?"

Rebecca nodded, "I want to do it away from here and away from Boston. I want it to be about Preston and me, not about family feuds."

"What about _your_ family?" Michaela asked.

"There's not really anyone that I would want there. I sent my aunt a telegram out of courtesy but, happily, she replied and said she was due to sail for England the day before. Preston's brother James and his wife will be attending. They appear to be the only members of Preston's family who seem remotely pleased about our marriage."

"I'm sure the approval of the extended Lodge family is the furthest thing from your mind."

"Indeed it is," Rebecca smiled. "Preston's been coming up with all these grand ideas for our house."

"Really?"

"It's as if he feels the need to build the biggest house possible. Almost as though he's trying to create a piece of Boston here and it doesn't work like that. I would be happy living in the bank." Her attention was suddenly diverted at the sound of an approaching horse and, looking up, saw Matthew ride past with Emma on the saddle behind him. They pulled up a few feet away and he slid down before helping her down onto the ground.

"I'm worried about Matthew," Michaela sighed as she watched her eldest son bid goodbye to Emma with a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Matthew? Why?" Rebecca looked back towards the couple, "Oh, I see."

"It's not that I don't like her," Michaela said hurriedly, "and it's not that I don't understand why she does what she does but…"

"You're worried about him getting hurt?"

Michaela nodded, "And about town gossip. I know I've never really been one to listen to it, but it's different when it's your child."

"Have you spoken to him about it?" Rebecca asked. Michaela shook her head. "Perhaps you should. You might find he has reservations about it himself."

Michaela looked at her sideways, "Perhaps _you _could."

"Me?" Rebecca squeaked. "But…"

"He respects you, he listens to you…"

"Yes, but…I don't have…I mean, I'm not qualified to comment…"

"Even if you could find out how serious his intentions are. It might put my mind at rest," Michaela insisted, "What with the baby almost due and everything else…I don't have the strength for an argument with him." She put her hand on Rebecca's arm. "Please. I'd be so grateful."

The last thing she wanted to do was meddle in other's relationships, especially when her own was all so new to her, but she knew she couldn't refuse her friend. "Ok," she agreed, "I'll talk to him."

XXXX

"What did you need me to come up here with you for?" Matthew asked later that afternoon as Rebecca drew her wagon to a halt outside the farm.

She dropped the reins and sighed heavily, "Look at the place. Completely falling apart." It still hurt her to see the ever increasingly dilapidation and wounded her deep inside when she thought back over her failure to make it work.

"Can't Preston do anything?"

"He doesn't own the building anymore. The National Trust Bank does and his father hates the idea of me so much that I can't see him agreeing in any way to sell it back to me."

"I thought that Helen married someone else?"

"She did and she's expecting a child apparently, but I think Mr Lodge Senior is still smarting about what Preston did and blames me for it." She made a face. "I don't suppose there's much I can do about it."

Matthew jumped down from the wagon and then helped her down in turn, "So, what are we doing up here?"

"Well I…I thought we could talk…"

"Talk?" She nodded. "What about?"

"Well, we haven't really spent much time together over the last few months and I miss talking with you," she explained.

"Well you've been so wrapped up in Preston," Matthew said, his tone slightly pointed.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I _have _been neglecting my friends, I know that. But you've been keeping yourself pretty busy too with Emma."

Realisation suddenly dawned on Matthew's face, "Doctor Mike asked you to talk to me, didn't she?"

"No…" Rebecca replied, somewhat unconvincingly.

"I can't believe this!" He exclaimed. "This is _my _life! I'm trying to move on after Ingrid! I thought that was what everyone wanted! Why can't everyone just realise leave me alone!"

"Matthew, your family are only concerned about you! Michaela only wants you to be happy."

"I haven't even done anything!" he retorted, "Emma and me are…well…"

"Do you love her?"

He blushed, "That ain't your business."

"You're right," she replied, "it isn't. I'm sorry I…"

"I ain't been with a whore."

Rebecca was taken aback by his language, "Matthew, I never said…"

"Jake did," he interrupted her. "He said that every man's been with a whore at some time. Maybe you ought to ask Preston about that."

"Matthew!"

"I'll make my own way back to town if you don't mind," he turned on his heel and stalked back down the hill, leaving Rebecca alone to contemplate what a mess she had made of that.

XXXX

"You seem a little distracted this evening."

Preston's voice broke into Rebecca's thoughts, making her start, "What? Sorry," she said, "I was miles away."

They had eaten dinner at Grace's and were now taking an evening stroll down to the meadow, knowing it was the only opportunity they would have to be alone together. Despite the fact that she was a twenty five year old, responsible woman, Mrs Brimble seemed to disapprove about her being out of the boarding house at night. Rebecca liked to think that the older woman was only concerned with her wellbeing.

"What are you thinking about?" Preston asked, as she entwined her arm with his. "The wedding?"

"No," she replied honestly. "It's…"

"Is it Loren? Is he making you work too hard at the store?"

"No," she said, "Loren couldn't be sweeter to me…"

"Well, you won't have to put up with it for much longer. Once we're married you'll be giving up that job." he asserted.

"And doing what?" she asked.

"Well, once my…our…resort is up and running there will, of course, be a role for my wife as hostess."

Rebecca bit her tongue, desperate to avoid an argument on that topic. It wasn't something on which they were likely to agree. Preston seemed to be under the impression that she was going to become an appendage to his arm, someone to meet and greet guests at his new hotel and, basically, float around like some ethereal being. Having worked on the farm, it sounded like nothing short of hell. It was a discussion she knew they were going to have to have at some point, but there was something far more pressing in her mind. "Preston…" she began slowly.

"Yes?"

"Have you…I mean…did you ever…what I mean is…"

He smiled affectionately at her, "What?"

"I was just wondering…"

"Yes?" he prompted her.

"Have you ever…you know…"

"No, I don't until you ask me."

"Have you ever been with a prostitute?" The words came out in a rush.

Preston stopped dead in his tracks, his face drained of colour and Rebecca immediately wished she could take the question back. "What?!"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I shouldn't have asked."

"Well why on earth did you?!" he blustered.

"I…" she fought for a decent answer, "I just…well, Jake was apparently giving Matthew a hard time about his relationship with Emma and he said…well he said that every man had been with a whore," she balked slightly at the word.

"Well, I can assure you that Jake Slicker does not speak for every man in this town!" Preston declared.

"So…you haven't?" she asked.

"No I haven't!" he exclaimed.

She linked her arm back with his again and they restarted their walk. Taking her courage in her hands, she dared to ask the obvious next question, "Have you ever been with _any_ woman?"

This time, she saw Preston's face flush in the fading light and he refused to meet her gaze, "Rebecca, I'm not entirely sure this is a conversation we should be having!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's…well it's…"

"We're supposed to be getting married, Preston. Isn't it something we should know about each other?"

"Well I…" he stopped short and turned to peer at her, "Are you saying that you…?"

"That I…what?"

"Have you…?" he left the question hanging.

"No!" she exclaimed, feeling her own face grow red. "No I haven't."

"Good," he said, obvious relief flooding his face.

"But if I had?" she asked, curious as to his response.

"If you had…what?"

"Been with a man!"

He looked as though he wasn't sure how to respond, "Well you haven't, so it's not an issue."

"But it _would _be an issue if I had?"

"Well…" he coughed, "a man likes to think that…when it comes to his wife…"

"Yes?" she prompted.

"Well, that he is the first customer, so to speak."

"The first customer?"

"The first customer to purchase the goods," he looked at her meaningfully.

"I see," she said slowly, "but it's not important for a wife to be the first customer to…purchase the goods?"

Preston opened his mouth, but no immediate sound came out. "Rebecca, I think this conversation has gone far enough now, don't you?" He began walking away from her.

"I suppose," she said, following him, "but you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Preston!"

He turned back and looked at her, "There may have been…on one occasion…"

Rebecca's mouth dropped open, "When?"

"A long time ago!" he insisted, stepping closer to her. "And it was nothing to speak of. Nothing at all. It won't be anything like…when you and I are finally together."

"Well, who was she?" Rebecca demanded.

"It was so long ago," he waved her away, "I can't even remember."

"You can't remember?"

"Which clearly shows how meaningless the whole encounter was!" He looked at her shocked expression. "Rebecca, darling, it's practically part of a young man's development. It's actively encouraged for men to...to sow their wild oats. Women, on the other hand…"

"And what does it say about the women that you young men 'develop' with?" she asked. "If they're not prostitutes, what are they?"

"Young women of nondescript birth for whom the encounter will only be one of many in their lives. Women who will spend their lives…having a good time."

"In other words, prostitutes."

"No…" he sighed, "not prostitutes. Can't we leave this topic now? It's giving me heartburn." He regarded her still stunned expression. "My darling…it is _expected_ that men have…experience…in that area. I'm told that most wives find it more…pleasurable…when their husband is a man who can _take charge_ as opposed to one as confused and fumbling as they themselves are."

They started walking again and Rebecca couldn't help grinning, despite the recent revelation, "So, am I to understand that you intend to…what was your turn of phrase…take charge of me on our wedding night?"

He stopped and drew her into his arms, "If I was any less of a gentlemen, I would take charge of you tonight," he murmured.

"You weren't exactly very 'gentlemanly' on Valentine's Day," she replied quietly in return, "A fact I'm sure Brian could testify to."

Preston's expression suddenly grew concerned, "Have you spoken with Michaela?"

"About what?"

"Well…about certain…precautions that may be necessary. That _will _be necessary once we're married."

Reality suddenly came back to her, "No," she said, "not yet."

"You must," he urged, "before we leave for Denver."

"I've plenty of time."

He paused, "I just want to make sure that you're fully prepared."

"I'm glad you see the responsibility as being mine," she quipped.

He smiled and kissed the top of her head, "I was hoping to speak with you about the groundbreaking ceremony."

Rebecca didn't miss the sudden change of subject, but decided not to comment, "Oh yes?"

"I've been thinking about May 17th."

"Don't you think you should wait a little until you have the bank under control?"

"I _have _the bank under control," he said, "I've been banking for years, Rebecca. But my investors in the resort are keen to see how their investment is being used and I want to make sure that work begins as soon as possible."

"But you don't need to have a groundbreaking ceremony, do you?"

"Yes I do!" he insisted.

"I'm only concerned that…well that you're going to be taking on too much. The bank, the house, the resort…"

"Don't worry about me," he said, "I'm not the one with the weak heart in this relationship."

Rebecca wasn't sure whether to thank him or hit him.

"Come on," he said, "I should get you back to the boarding house before Mrs Brimble sends out our erstwhile Sheriff to round you up."

"Then you'd best kiss me properly before we get back into town," she said with a knowing smile, pushing all other thoughts from her mind.

He needed no further encouragement. Pulling her close to him again, he bent and kissed her passionately and deeply. Rebecca responded, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her, delighting at the feel of his body pressed tightly against her own. His hands slid down her back to rest at the top of her waist and she felt delicious shivers course through her.

"I love you," she whispered as he pulled back from her and peppered her face with light kisses before moving to her neck and gently nipping the skin there.

"Don't mind me."

They sprang apart again as Matthew stalked past. He didn't stop to speak or even to raise a wry eyebrow. Instead, he ploughed on, determination in every stride, his head down, his expression hidden under his hat.

"What is it with every member of the Quinn family interrupting us?!" Preston exclaimed.

Rebecca laughed and linked her arm through his again, "We probably should be getting back, before I lose my honour right here."


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you everyone who is continuing to review the story. Glad you're enjoying it. Yes, I am trying to weave it in with events from the series, but not always in the order they originally happened. For example, Matthew's relationship with Emma and Myra starting work at the bank started in the same episode, but here I've had Myra working at the bank for a while. Hope that's ok with everyone. Please leave a review :)**

**May 16****th**** 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

Summer was fast approaching and it was unseasonably warm in town. Rebecca, hard at work sweeping the store, could feel beads of sweat tricking down her back and pooling uncomfortably at her waist. Tendrils of hair kept coming loose from where she had piled it on top of her head and she could tell, without the need for a mirror, that her face would be the colour of beetroot. Straightening up and stretching her back, she glanced at the clock on the wall again and saw that it was fast approaching four o'clock. Loren had been gone for over an hour and she was in danger of being late for dinner with Preston's investors. They had arrived on the train that morning and were staying for the groundbreaking ceremony of the Spring Chateau and Health Resort which was due to take place the following day.

"Hey Rebecca."

She turned to see Myra coming into the shop holding Samantha in her arms. "Myra," she greeted her, "Hello Samantha." The little girl smiled at her. "Is that you finished for the day?"

Myra nodded, "Thank goodness. No offence, but I'm not sure I could have stayed in Preston's company for much longer. He's been jumping about all day like a cat on a hot tin roof showing these investors round and…"she sighed, "I hope things go well tomorrow."

"So do I," Rebecca said, glancing at the clock again, "is there something I can get for you?"

"No," she replied, "but Preston asked me to come in and see if you were finished."

"Did he now?"

"He wanted me to remind you that dinner is at six at Grace's."

"As if I could forget that," Rebecca said, "impressing these investors has been the only topic of conversation for weeks now! I think he's forgotten that we're getting married in less than a month's time."

"It's so exciting!" Myra said, "You must be really looking forward to it."

"I am," Rebecca replied, "although I do hope it's not as warm as this in Denver." She fanned herself with her hand. "If you don't mind, Myra, I think I'll just…sit down for a minute…" she could feel herself growing light headed in the heat and sank down gratefully on Dorothy's chair.

"Are you all right?" Myra asked, "You went mighty pale there."

"I'm fine," she reassured her, "It's only the heat."

"You sure you ain't having one of your…you know…attacks?"

"Positive. Believe me, I would know." Rebecca wiped her brow, "Have you seen Loren? He said he was going to talk to Jake and that was over an hour ago. If he's any longer, I won't make dinner at all."

"No, I ain't," Myra replied, "Do you want me to go look for him?"

"No, no. I'm sure he'll be here any minute. You'd best get on home to Horace before he wonders what's happened to you."

"All right then," Myra said, "if you're sure?"

"I'm sure, believe me." A thought suddenly struck her, "Myra?"

"Yes?"

"What does Horace think about you working at the bank?"

Myra blushed slightly, "Between you and me, he doesn't like it. I think he preferred it when I was at the telegraph office. But I'm grateful to Preston for giving me the job. He seems to think differently to most men."

"How so?" Rebecca asked, interested.

"Well, he really wanted me to take this job and I heard that he was talking to Dorothy about her expanding the Gazette. He seems to think there's nothing wrong with women earning a living."

"Except his wife," Rebecca muttered.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing," she smiled, "off you go. I'll see you tomorrow at the ceremony."

"Ok," Myra said, "night." As she was leaving, Loren came rushing in.

"Sorry Rebecca," he said, "I got caught up with Jake and lost track of the time." He peered at her, "You all right?"

"I'm fine, Loren, thank you," she got to her feet and removed her apron.

"You sure you ain't having one of your turns? I could get Doctor Mike…"

"No, I'm not having 'one of my turns'," she replied, "it's just the heat, that's all." She wiped her forehead again, "I'd best be on my way, if I'm to make this dinner tonight."

"Oh yes, Preston's investors," Loren said, "should be an interesting ceremony tomorrow."

"Yes I suppose it should," Rebecca replied, "Good night." With that, she left the store and began hurriedly crossing the street to the boarding house. As she reached the door, she stopped at the sound of her name being called. Turning, she saw Michaela coming towards her with another woman by her side.

"Rebecca, I'd like you to meet my sister Marjorie."

"It's a pleasure," Rebecca shook her hand, "You're in town for the birth?" she gestured to Michaela's ever expanding waistline.

"We wouldn't miss it," Marjorie replied, "Michaela tells me you own a farm around here."

"Used to," Rebecca replied, "unfortunately the bank repossessed it."

"How terrible," Marjorie shook her head, "I always think it's nice to meet fellow independent women." Rebecca smiled. "Although I also hear that you're about to marry the local banker."

"Yes that's true," Rebecca said.

"Well, there shouldn't be much problem in getting your farm back then, should there?" Marjorie smiled.

"No," Rebecca said indulgently, "I suppose there shouldn't."

"Rebecca, you look very pale," Michaela said, "are you feeling all right?"

"Fine," she replied, slightly impatiently, "I'm sorry, but I'm really running late. Preston is having dinner with his investors this evening and I must change out of these clothes."

"We won't keep you," Michaela said, taking Marjorie's arm and steering her away.

Rebecca let herself into the boarding house and hurried to her room. Checking her watch, she saw she didn't have long. Splashing her face with cold water to cool herself, she opened the small wardrobe and surveyed her collection of dresses. For Preston's sake, it was important that she make a good impression this evening. Extremely important.

XXXX

As the hands of his pocket watch slipped to six o'clock, Preston found himself scanning the approach to the cafe hoping to catch sight of Rebecca. His investors were none too perturbed. Having appeared to have had a fruitful and pleasant day, they all seemed in good spirits. But Preston knew that it was a constant battle to make sure that they remained impressed and therefore keen to support their investment. It was imperative that nothing go wrong.

"Where is this charming fiancée of yours, Preston?" Thomas Ballantyne asked, "I'm eager to meet her."

"She's on her way," Preston reassured him. "Rebecca is nothing if not punctual." As he said the words, he suddenly saw her hurrying towards the entrance to the café. "In fact, here she is now." He got to his feet.

"Please excuse me gentlemen," Rebecca said, approaching the table, "I'm afraid I got held up on my way over here." They all got to their feet and nodded to her. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Not at all," Preston said, pulling out a chair for her, "You look lovely," he added quietly. "Gentlemen, this is my fiancée, Rebecca McKendrick. Rebecca, this is Mr Thomas Ballantyne, Mr Francis North, Mr Harold Lewis and Mr Charles Davidson." He introduced them in turn.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rebecca replied, "I trust you've all had a good day?"

"Indeed!" Francis exclaimed, "Preston has been filling us in on all his plans. I must confess, it all sounds quite brilliant."

"What do _you _think about the resort, Miss McKendrick?" Harold asked her.

"Rebecca, please," she replied, shooting him a winning smile, "I think it's a wonderful idea and just what the town needs. Not to mention the people that will come for the hot springs."

"Took a Lodge to come up with the idea, eh?" Harold slapped Preston on the back as Grace arrived with the food.

"Preston is very creative," Rebecca added. The rest of the conversation began to wash over her as the men discussed the business plans for the resort. Occasionally, she chipped in with a comment here or there, but for the most part she tuned out.

"A resort as fine as you're going to have, Preston, needs a pretty hostess," Charles said as he puffed on his after dinner cigar, "And if your good lady is as charming to your guests as she has been to us, I foresee there being little problem."

"Of course I'll be happy to help out at the hotel," Rebecca said, "but I already have my own job."

"Really?" Thomas peered at her, "What might that be?"

"I work in the local store," she explained.

"Something which she will not be doing for much longer," Preston interrupted.

"I think that's up to me, Preston, don't you?" she said, as calmly as possible.

He looked at her and she could see the faint trace of annoyance in his expression, "Well, it's certainly something we need to discuss, my dear."

"Nothing to discuss," Harold thumped the table, "Woman's place is in the home cooking, cleaning and raising children. Make sure you take a firm hand with her, Preston."

To Rebecca's relief, the subject was quickly changed and before she knew it, everyone was rising from the table. Preston's guests were travelling the short distance by train to Soda Springs to stay at a small hotel before returning the following day for the ceremony. Preston pulled out Rebecca's chair and, as she stood, she felt the blackness threatening to close over her again. Taking a deep breath, she fought against it as hard as she could, knowing it would not be good were she to collapse in front of everyone. Preston didn't appear to notice but as Grace arrived to clear the plates, she did a double take at the younger woman.

"Rebecca, are you all right?" she asked, "You look terribly pale."

"I'm fine, Grace, thank you," Rebecca said. "It's been a long day, that's all."

"If you're sure…" Grace said unconvinced.

"Positive," Rebecca forced a smile.

"Rebecca," Preston appeared at her side, "the gentlemen are preparing to board the train. Will you accompany us to the station?"

She linked her arm through his, "Of course." They made the short journey to the station, Preston conversing with Thomas and Rebecca trying hard to remain on her feet.

"Preston, it's been a pleasure!" Harold declared as the train pulled up. "I know I'm looking forward to coming back tomorrow for the ceremony."

"Well, we'll be glad to have you back again," Preston said, "won't we Rebecca?"

"Yes," she said, "yes we will."

"It was very nice to make your acquaintance," Francis kissed her hand, "Until tomorrow then." The four of them boarded the train and Preston and Rebecca waited until it had pulled out of the station.

"Well, I think that went very well," Preston said, turning to her, "Very well indeed, don't you?"

"Yes," she replied, "they seem very nice gentlemen and very keen."

"Absolutely," he enthused, "and we need to keep it that way. Which is way tomorrow _must _go according to plan. Now, I have Myra working to a strict timetable, but I _will _need your input too."

"Of course," she said weakly.

"They all seemed rather taken with you," he continued, "And why shouldn't they be? I know I can count on you to utilise that charm tomorrow."

"Yes," she said.

He paused and looked at her, "You look rather pale, my dear, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, "It's been a long, hot day and I'm rather tired."

"No wonder, the way Loren has you working in that store. I mean it, Rebecca, once we are married you will be giving that job up. It's not fitting for a woman of your breeding to be working in a general store."

"But it was fitting enough for me to work on the farm?"

"That was different," he argued, "no, I think the sooner you give up that job, the better."

"I think that's my decision, Preston," she said, "and I haven't made it yet."

"Rebecca…"

"Please," she interrupted him, "let's not dwell on it tonight. Tomorrow is going to be another long day for both of us."

"Of course." They started to make their way back up the street towards the boarding house. "I only hope everything goes well tomorrow," Preston said, "if anything were to go wrong it would be disastrous…"

Rebecca wasn't listening. She felt extremely peculiar, a mixture of fatigue and heat, despite the fact the sun had dipped. Her chest was tight and she could hear her breath coming in shortened bursts. It had been so long since she had had an attack. It couldn't possibly be happening now.

"…doing the food for the ceremony. I understand she's doing something for Michaela's baby shower too but…"

"Preston…" She stopped walking suddenly.

"Yes?" he turned to her, "What is it?"

"I…"

"Rebecca, you really are extremely pale." Concern flooded his face, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I think I…" before she could finish the sentence, she had pitched forward into his arms, and the world had gone dark around her.

XXXX

Colleen was tidying Michaela's clinic, aided by Doctor Andrew Cook. In truth, he had spent most of the day there earlier when he had arrived on the train with Mrs Quinn, Marjorie and Rebecca. Colleen had laughed at that. Two Rebecca's in town. How would everyone not get completely confused? Colleen couldn't help being quite taken with the new young doctor. He seemed shy and nervous, rather like herself, but she liked him and hoped that he would be staying in Colorado Springs for some time, even after he had delivered the baby.

"Thank you for helping me," she said.

"Not at all," he replied, "I couldn't have had you come all the way back into town on your own."

"Ma said I could leave it until tomorrow but…I like having things tidy for the next day." She rolled up some bandages and put them away in the cupboard, "Besides, it's quiet in here in the evenings."

"I must say, your town is very impressive," Andrew said, "so different from Boston, but in a good way."

"It'll be getting as big as Boston in a few years," she asserted, "especially once Mr Lodge opens his hotel…" As she said the words, the door to the clinic burst open and Preston appeared, carrying Rebecca in his arms. "Rebecca!"

"Where's Michaela?" Preston demanded.

"She's at home," Colleen replied, "what happened?"

"She just collapsed in the street," he said, laying her down on the bed, "I'm concerned it might be her heart." He caught sight of Andrew. "Are you a doctor?"

"Yes, Doctor Andrew Cook."

"Thank goodness," Preston said, "please, you have to help her." He could hear the panic in his own voice.

"She has a heart condition," Colleen explained quickly. "Ma prescribes digitalis for it."

"Do we have any here?" Andrew asked.

"Yes, I'll get some," Colleen hurried over to the cupboard and began looking through the bottles. Andrew meanwhile grabbed the stethoscope and began listening to Rebecca's heart.

"Her breath sounds are good," he relayed. He made to pull up her eyelids when Rebecca's eyes suddenly fluttered and then opened.

"Rebecca?" Preston leaned in towards her.

"Preston…" she said faintly.

"I'm here," he reassured her. "You're in the clinic and you're going to be fine."

"Rebecca, I'm Doctor Cook," Andrew said, "how do you feel?"

"I'm…I'm all right," she said, "I just…I just fainted." She made to sit up but Andrew pressed her back down.

"Stay where you are for the moment," he said, "until I finish checking you over."

"Do you need this?" Colleen held up the digitalis.

"No, I don't think so."

Preston watched anxiously as Andrew continued his examination. "I'm sorry." He looked down to see Rebecca looking up at him. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he reassured her.

"I don't know what happened…"

"I do," he said, "it's working in that store. I'm putting my foot down now, Rebecca. I mean it. No more. I'll tell Loren tomorrow that you will no longer be working there. It's clearly not good for your health."

"Can you sit up?" Andrew asked. With Preston's help, Rebecca pulled herself into a seated position. "How do you feel now?"

"Better," she replied.

"You're not as pale as you were earlier," Preston said helpfully.

"I was working too hard, that's all," she explained to them, "and the heat today…"

"You must make sure that you take plenty of breaks and drink plenty water when undertaking physical work in this heat," Andrew said, "aside from that, have you had any problems recently with your heart?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"My last attack was at Christmas," she said, "I'm fine, honestly."

"You can stay here tonight," Colleen said, "I don't mind staying with you."

"No," Rebecca said, "I want to go back to the boarding house."

"Perhaps you _should _stay here," Preston said.

"No," she insisted, "I'm fine. It wasn't an attack. I just fainted." She swung her legs over the bed and made to climb off. "We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"All you will be doing tomorrow is resting," Preston said.

"I don't need to rest," she said, getting to her feet with his help, "I'm perfectly fine. Thank you Doctor Cook, Colleen." She reached into her purse to retrieve some money.

"Rebecca…" Preston stopped her and then handed some of his own to Andrew, "thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," Andrew said.

Rebecca left the clinic hurriedly, Preston a few paces behind. "Rebecca." She kept walking. "Rebecca!"

"What?"

He stopped her in her tracks and turned her to face him. "Have you been feeling unwell recently?"

"No. I just fainted, that's all."

"You're sure? You would tell me if you thought you were experiencing your attacks again?"

"Yes I would," she reassured him. "Now please, Preston, go home. I'll see you tomorrow for the ceremony." She reached up and kissed him quickly on the cheek before turning and heading back towards the boarding house.


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you to everyone who is continuing to read and review. Your support and encouragement is much appreciated. Here's the next thrilling installment. Any dialogue from the episode When A Child Is Born is not mine and is the property of those who wrote that wonderful episode. I've added a few things in to my version which lend themselves to this story. I hope you'll continue to enjoy it :)**

**May 17****th**** 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

The following morning, Preston took it upon himself to go to the store and tell Loren that Rebecca would no longer be working there. Having barely slept the night before through a mixture of worrying about the ceremony and worrying about Rebecca, he was at the door of the store as Loren was preparing to open up.

"What's the rush?" the older man asked grumpily. "Is there a shortage or something?"

"I'm not here to buy anything, Loren," Preston said, "I'm here on Rebecca's behalf."

"What for? I already gave her the day off to attend your ceremony."

"Rebecca won't be back," he said, "she's quitting. Effective immediately."

Loren looked at him, "What? Why?"

"Because you are working her too hard, Loren," Preston said firmly, "Do you know she collapsed yesterday after dinner?"

"What?" Loren's face drained of colour, "Is she all right?"

"She was fine after I had to take her to the clinic. That new doctor took a look at her and told her she was fatigued. Rebecca already has a weak heart, Loren, and I won't have her running the risk of collapsing after a day's work. She would have been quitting anyway once we were married so it's of little consequence."

"Well… tell her I'm real sorry," Loren said, "and I'll pay her to the end of the month."

"That's very generous of you, Loren. I'll make sure she knows." Touching his hat, Preston turned and left the store.

XXXX

Rebecca awoke that morning with a pounding headache a fact which, had she known it at that point, would be a precursor for the entire day. Struggling out of bed, she moved to her wash basin and washed herself before lying back down on the bed with a cloth to her head, hoping that it would ease the pain. As she did so, she found herself thinking back to the previous evening and what had happened. She hoped fervently that her fainting spell had been just that, a reaction to working too hard in the heat. Having been free of her attacks for so long, she was terrified at the prospect of them returning.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.

"Come in," she said, straightening up and pulling her dressing gown around her.

Mrs Brimble appeared, "Good morning Rebecca. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes thank you," she lied.

"I have your young gentleman here and he's quite eager to see you," she raised her eyebrows somewhat disapprovingly, "normally I wouldn't permit it but seeing as it's you…"

"Thank you Mrs Brimble," Rebecca said. The older woman stepped back and Preston appeared in the doorway. He waited until she had closed the door behind her before stepping forward and taking her in his arms. "I'm all right, Preston," she said before he could speak, "really I am."

He pulled back and looked at her, "I've been worrying about you all night."

"Well you needn't have. Really, it's just as Doctor Cook said. I fainted because of the heat."

"Rebecca…" he pushed her hair back from her face, "I care so much about you and I worry…"

"You don't _have _to worry!" she said, pulling away from him, "I've been managing my health for years and if I thought my attacks were coming back…"

"Would you tell me?" he interrupted.

"Of course I would." She turned and looked out of the window, her head aching, desperate for him to leave her alone. "Shouldn't you be preparing for your investors coming back?"

"Yes, yes," he said, "but I had to make sure you were all right first. Do you think you'll be fit to attend the ceremony this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"Because it might be better if you just…"

"I said I'll be there Preston, and I will," she turned back and forced a smile, "I promise."

"Good," he smiled, satisfied. "I should leave you to get ready. I'll come by for you just before the ceremony."

"Fine," she said, accepting his kiss.

"Oh," he said, turning at the door, "I spoke to Loren earlier and I told him you wouldn't be returning to work at the store."

Rebecca stared at him, "What?"

"If it wasn't one of your attacks then clearly he was working you too hard yesterday. I told you that I wouldn't stand for it."

"Wouldn't stand for it? Preston, it's not up to you!" she replied, "It's _my _job and _my _life and you had no right interfering! If I want to leave my job there then _I'll _decide that, not you!"

"Rebecca, this time next month we will be married and you won't be working there anymore anyway. I don't see what a few weeks…"

"I never said I would be giving up after we were married," she reminded him, "_You _decided that, and you had no right to! Why shouldn't I work simply because I'm going to become your wife?"

"I didn't say you shouldn't work," he said evenly, "Indeed, I think it's admirable that women hold down jobs. Haven't I employed Myra? Am I not talking with Dorothy about expanding the Gazette?"

"Yes…"

"I just don't want _my _wife working in some…shop…when there are plenty of other, more worthwhile things to be done at the hotel!"

"You haven't even built the thing yet Preston!" she shouted, "It's still just a piece of unspoilt land! It's not as if by the time we come back from Denver it will have magically appeared!"

He looked at her in shock, "Rebecca…"

"Oh just…just leave me alone," she flapped her hands at him and turned her back, pressing the cloth back to her head. "Please." She waited until she heard the door open and close behind him and then sank back down on the bed.

XXXX

Several hours later, she left the boarding house to take a short walk hoping to ease the pain in her head. Before leaving, she had brewed herself some of the Willowbark tea Michaela had recommended all those months ago, but so far it appeared to be having little effect. As she crossed the street, she heard the sound of her name being called and turned to see Matthew hurrying towards her.

"Matthew," she greeted him.

"Heard you fainted yesterday," he said with concern, "You all right?"

"Yes I'm fine," she said, "it was hot and I was tired and…" she trailed off.

"Preston had to carry you to the clinic," he continued.

"Well, I see it's all around town now."

"Are you sure it wasn't something more serious? It's not a problem with your heart, is it?"

"No," she said, "it was just a little fainting spell. Why can no-one accept that?" she started walking away from him.

"I'm sorry," he called after her, "I didn't mean to offend you."

Rebecca stopped and turned back, "No, I'm sorry. Preston's been fussing over me ever since it happened and, to tell you the truth, it's getting a little wearying."

"You're the one planning to marry him," Matthew reminded her. "Probably going to be doing a lot more fussing over the next fifty years."

Rebecca laughed despite herself, "How are you and Emma getting on?"

He blushed, "Fine."

"I'm glad," she said genuinely, "I hope the two of you can be happy, especially now she's given up…well…stopped working at the saloon."

"You going to the ceremony later?" he changed the subject.

"Yes," she sighed, "Preston's expecting me to charm his investors again. I'm sure everything's going to go fine. And you?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I guess I'll see you there."

"See you later," she replied. Turning, she started walking towards the meadow, breathing in the warm air and letting the sun warm her face.

"Rebecca! Rebecca!" Turning, she saw Loren hurrying towards her. "Are you all right?" he asked, his face marred with concern.

"I'm fine…"

"Preston came by this morning and told me you collapsed yesterday after work! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise that I was working you so hard…"

"Loren," she put her hand on his arm, "It wasn't you, I promise. It was the heat and I was tired…" _Why do I feel as though I've said this a million times?_

"Well…I understand that you don't want to come back, but I'll sure miss having you around, especially now that Dorothy's going to be moving to the old telegraph office."

"I didn't know that Preston was going to tell you I wouldn't be back," she said, "he had no right to do it without consulting me, Loren. If you still want me to work at the store, then I'm more than happy to do so."

Loren smiled, "You are?"

"Of course. If you're in agreement, I can start again tomorrow."

"I'd like that," he enthused.

"Good, that's settled then."

"But…what about Preston?"

She raised her eyebrow, "You leave Preston to me."

XXXX

"I trust you're in a slightly more amiable mood now," Preston greeted Rebecca several hours later as he met her on the porch of the boarding house.

She sighed inwardly. "I'm feeling a little better, if that's what you mean." In truth, her head still hurt, but not nearly as much as it had that morning. She stepped off of the porch and entwined her arm with his, though she could tell by his stiffness that he had offered it out of convention as opposed to desire.

"That's not what I meant," he replied, quietly as they began walking down the street together. "I'm talking about the exchange in your room this morning."

"You mean the exchange involving you interfering in my life?" she replied, smiling at Colleen and Andrew as they passed the clinic. "I'm much better, thank you," she said in response to a question from the latter.

"I hardly think you can look at it in that way."

"Why not? That's exactly what it was."

"I was merely looking out for your welfare."

"By dictating to me that I had to give up my job at the store and then taking it upon yourself to convey this to Loren without even consulting me? You think that constitutes looking out for my welfare?"

"What did you expect me to do?" he asked.

"Allow me to make my own decisions," she said. "I'm happy to help you out in the hotel whenever it's required. But I'll do it because I want to, not because you force me. And the same has to be said for my job."

"But I don't understand why you want to work there!" he said, frustrated.

"I don't expect you to, Preston," she replied evenly, "but it's my choice."

"Rebecca, I hardly think…"

"Are we going to this ceremony or not?" she asked, stopping and turning to face him.

He paused, "Yes, yes we are."

"Then I suggest we go now and continue this discussion later." Without saying anything more, he helped into the surrey which was parked outside the bank and they began making their way. Upon arrival, she saw the gentlemen she had met the previous evening waiting for them.

"Rebecca!" Harold Lewis greeted her enthusiastically as he helped her down from the surrey, "How are you this afternoon my dear?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, accepting his help, but feeling her headache return tenfold at his booming voice. "And you?"

"Very well, very well!" he said, "Looking forward to this, I must say."

She greeted the other gentlemen present and saw that there was a good turnout of people from town. She felt pleased, for Preston's sake.

"Rebecca…" she felt his hand on her back and he gestured for her to step up onto the podium where his investors were assembling.

"No, no," she said, "I'll stay down here."

"Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Because this is your moment," she gave him a smile, "I'll be fine down here with Myra." She gestured to where Myra was standing with Horace, the latter looking extremely disgruntled. Wisely, Preston decided to take the matter no further, but she could tell by his expression that he was unhappy. She moved over to stand with Myra. "Afternoon, Myra."

"Hi," the other woman replied, "You all right?"

"Fine, thank you. You?"

"Oh…ok I guess." She leaned in to whisper, "Horace ain't too happy to be here."

"Why not?"

"Don't ask."

Rebecca was prevented from saying anything more by Matthew tapping her on the shoulder. "Hello," she greeted him.

"Everything going ok?" he asked, gesturing to the platform where Preston had started speaking.

"So far," she replied, "are you here in an official capacity?"

"I like to make sure I keep an eye on things," he replied, "you never know when trouble's going to start."

"I can't see anything happening here," she said, "it's only a groundbreaking ceremony."

"Better safe than sorry."

"Horace!" Myra's exclamation caused Rebecca to look round again, "You're…you're embarrassing me!"

"Embarrassing you? What about me? Having to come here in the first place just so's you can impress that thief!"

"Horace!"

"And what about that time I let you run around with Hank in front of the whole town pretending you were married? You think that didn't embarrass me?"

Hank stepped over, "Leave her alone, Horace."

"Don't you tell me what to do," Horace said contemptuously.

"Oh my Lord…" Myra groaned, turning to Rebecca who didn't know what to say.

"Gentlemen, can we take this discussion elsewhere?" Preston demanded from the platform.

"You don't shut up an' leave her be, I'll make you shut up," Hank threatened, oblivious.

"Mind your own business Hank," Horace growled.

Preston stepped down from the platform, irritated at the interruption, and headed towards the warring pair.

"Preston…" Rebecca said as he approached, but he ignored her.

"Hank, Horace, do you mind? You're disrupting the…" before Preston could finish his sentence, Hank sent a stinging blow in his direction, knocking Preston clean off of his feet and into a puddle of mud.

"Oh my Lord!" Rebecca rushed forwards at the sight. "Preston, are you all right?" She hovered as he emerged from the puddle, dripping everywhere, literally covered head to toe in the stuff. "Are you hurt?" she asked, moving forwards. Behind her, chaos reigned as Horace and Hank traded blows, causing the table of food prepared by Grace to topple onto the ground.

"No," he said stiffly.

"You're covered!" she exclaimed, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, "Here, let me…" She reached out to wipe some of the mud away.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, pushing her roughly away from him so that she stumbled backwards.

"Hey!" Matthew said, instantly placing himself between the couple. "That's enough, Preston!"

"Ah yes," Preston sneered, irritated at the intrustion, "our gallant Sheriff, always by Rebecca's side."

"Stop it," Rebecca said, her voice low, "please."

"Back off," Matthew said quietly.

"Don't you threaten me," Preston said.

Rebecca couldn't bear to listen to any more. Turning, she fled back in the direction of town, pushing past people in her quest to get away.

What was happening to their relationship?

XXXX

Back in the bank, several hours later, Preston cleaned himself up and examined the small bruise on the side of his face where he had been struck. The entire day had been a disaster from start to finish. Fighting with Rebecca and then ending up face down in a puddle of mud was not how he had envisaged the day going. Thinking about Rebecca, he suddenly felt a crushing weight of guilt settle on him. She had only been trying to help him and he had, literally, pushed her away. On top of that, he had allowed his feelings of insecurity surrounding her relationship with Matthew to be allowed a voice and, for all of that, he was ashamed.

Once he was changed, he left the bank and hurried to the boarding house hoping to talk with her. Mrs Brimble informed him that Rebecca hadn't returned and, although she didn't say it, he could see the disapproval in her face.

It was late in the evening when he eventually found her. She was sitting alone in Grace's café, staring into space. The sun had long since gone down and he could barely see her in the dark. He was still smarting from his own humiliation, but saw weariness etched on her face mingled with, what he had to admit looked suspiciously like, unhappiness and felt it pierce his heart. He walked over to the table and she looked up as he approached.

"May I sit down?" he asked quietly, half expecting her to say no.

"Of course," she replied. He pulled out a chair and sat beside her. "How are you?" she asked, before he could speak.

"Fine," he replied, "nothing a few days healing won't fix."

"And your investors?"

"I made sure they were escorted back to the train," he said, "I think they were rather shocked by the whole turn of events."

"I'm sure once they've had time to think on it, they'll see that it wasn't your fault."

"I'm sure you're right." Neither of them spoke for a long moment. "But what happened between us was. I'm sorry," he said finally, "for what happened earlier."

"It's all right," she said, staring down at her hands clasped on the table in front of her.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you, nor should I have laid hands on you the way I did," he looked at her, "can you forgive me?"

"It was only a small push, Preston," she said. "Of course I can forgive you."

"Maybe," he said, "but I abhor violence towards women in any way shape or form and I'm…I'm ashamed of my actions."

"I promise you, it's fine."

"And…I'm sorry for the inference I made about Matthew." He avoided her gaze. "That was wrong too."

"Matthew's my friend and always will be," she said, "but nothing more." How could she convey to him, other than in the obvious way, that it was _he_ that filled her dreams at night, _his _touch that she longed for, _his _body that she ached to be entangled with her own?

He nodded. "I'm going to ask you this straight out, Rebecca," he said decisively, "and I'd appreciate a straight answer." She looked at him in surprise. "Do you still want to marry me?"

Her mouth dropped open slightly, "Of course I do," she said, "why would you think…?"

"Because all we have seemed to do these last few days is fight. If it's not about your health, it's about your working at the store… nothing I say or do seems to please you and I don't want to force you into a marriage where you're destined to be so unhappy." He saw a flicker cross her face. "If you _are _unhappy, please tell me."

"I'm not," she said quietly, "at least…not with you. I…" she ran a hand over her eyes.

"Then what is it?" he asked, desperate to know what, if anything he could do to make things right.

"I suppose I'm finding it difficult getting used to having someone in my life," she explained. "Someone who wants to make decisions for me, who wants to…"

"I only want to look after you," he interrupted.

"I know that," she placed her hand on top of his, "and I love you for it, but…I've been on my own for some time and I'm used to not having to compromise with anyone. I know that has to change in a marriage but I can't help trying to cling onto my own independence."

"I don't want to suffocate you."

"You're not," she reassured him, "but you can't expect to take me as your wife as if you're taking me from my father's home. It's not like that with me. I have to have a voice and I have to have an opinion…and one of those has to be about where I work." She looked at him meaningfully.

Preston sighed heavily, realising that this was clearly one battle he would have to concede. "Fine. If you want to keep working at the store then I can't very well stop you, can I?"

"No," she said, with a small smile, "You can't."

"But there will be times when I will need you at the hotel," he added, "and I would hope that…"

"I will be there," she said, "I promise. But please," she added, "this is the second time we've needed to have this conversation. I don't want us to have it again, Preston, really I don't."

"All right," he said, "I promise." He leaned over to kiss her but stopped as Colleen came hurrying up.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said.

"Another Quinn…" Preston said under his breath. Rebecca smothered a laugh.

"Horace asked if I could bring this for you, Mr Lodge. It's a telegram."

"I can see that, thank you Colleen," he took it from her and opened it.

"Thank you, Colleen," Rebecca said. She turned back after the younger girl had left and saw a frown marring Preston's features. "What is it? It's not bad news I hope."

"Well…no…" he said hesitantly.

"Then what is it?"

"My mother and father wish to attend our wedding in Denver," he said, passing the paper to her. "My father has business there around the same time and they think it would be an ideal opportunity to finally meet you."

Rebecca read the words and then passed the telegram back to him wordlessly, her head beginning to suddenly pound again. It seemed she would be coming face to face with Preston A. Lodge II, and his prejudices, sooner than she had hoped.


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you for your reviews. Keep 'em coming!**

**June 8****th**** 1871**

**Denver**

"Trains," Rebecca murmured. "They always seem to be taking me to important things."

Preston, who was reading the newspaper next to her, looked over at her, "What?"

"Trains," she repeated. "I said they always seem to be taking me to important things."

"I don't understand."

"Well, I took the train to Colorado Springs and met you and now, here I am, taking a train to Denver to marry you. Two extremely important events in my life so far."

Preston smiled indulgently at her, "Indeed."

As he turned back to his paper, Rebecca turned back to looking out of the window at the passing scenery. The sun was blazing in the sky above them, the grass lush, the trees brimming. It was the very essence of the beginning of summer. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind trying to get everything ready for the trip to Denver.

The arrangements had mostly been made by telegram and letter but Rebecca had taken a trip to Denver at the end of May simply to finalise things. Preston had been unable to get away due to work at the bank and hadn't been thrilled at the prospect of her making the trip alone, but he had been salved by the arrival of a telegram from Louisa, explaining that she was meeting her aunt in Denver and would be more than happy to meet with Rebecca and help finalise the arrangements.

Rebecca had been thrilled that Louisa had turned out to be so friendly and accommodating, the kind of woman that could become a close friend. They had spent a delightful two days in the city organising matters and Rebecca had found herself pouring out all her troubles to her future sister-in-law. Louisa had proven to be a good listener and a wise counsel and Rebecca had found herself telling the other woman all of her fears, and her deepest secret about her health.

"James' parents weren't too keen on me either at the beginning," Louisa had confided. "James was supposed to marry Helen and then when he met me, all of that went out of the window."

"But Mr and Mrs Lodge adore you from what I've heard," Rebecca had said.

"And they will adore you too given time," Louisa had reassured her.

Rebecca wished she could share the other woman's confidence.

"There had better be some movement on the house by the time we get back," Preston said suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie.

"I've told you before, Preston, we don't need a fancy house."

"I know that," he said, "but I refuse to have us living at the bank forever and I am sick and tired of the excuses that foreman has been making. What in God's name am I paying him for if not to build a house?! I wanted to bring my wife back to a proper home."

Rebecca didn't reply. She didn't want to get into yet _another _debate over the house, a property she didn't even really want to live in. It wasn't that she didn't want a nice house, but she felt that a large property, as Preston envisioned, would only serve to highlight the lack of a family.

"How much longer until we get there?" she asked, to divert the conversation back to safer territory.

Preston glanced at his pocket watch, "Fifteen minutes at most."

"I can't wait to see Louisa again," she said, "and meet James, of course. I feel I owe your brother a thank you given that he was the only member of your family to encourage you to come home to me."

"Of course," Preston said, and she could hear the hesitation in his voice.

"What is it?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Nothing," he replied briskly, "nothing at all."

"Are you concerned about seeing your parents?"

"No," he said, lifting his newspaper again, a sure sign that he didn't want to continue the conversation.

Rebecca decided to leave matters and returned to watching the scenery. Eventually, the countryside gave way to more industrial areas and, before she knew where they were, they were pulling into the station at Denver. They gathered their belongings and disembarked from the train into the noise and steam.

"I always forget how different these places are to Colorado Springs!" Preston shouted to her above the noise.

"I know!" she shouted back, suddenly catching sight of Louisa a few feet away, "Preston, there's Louisa!" She hurried forward to greet her friend, who embraced her and then Preston in turn.

"Preston, it's wonderful to see you again," Louisa said.

"And you, Louisa," he replied, "You look radiant."

A blush crept over Louisa's face but she turned to the man standing beside her, "Rebecca, this is my husband James. James, this is Rebecca McKendrick."

"Rebecca…" James stepped forward and clasped her hands in his, "It's wonderful to finally meet you. Preston hasn't done you justice. You're far lovelier than he could ever have described."

It was Rebecca's turn to blush. It felt nice to be complimented by someone in Preston's family given that all the rest were so against her.

James turned and greeted his brother. "Come on," he said, "let's get to the hotel and help you settle in before dinner."

"Are Mother and Father here?" Preston asked, his tone slightly tense.

"Not yet," James said, "they should be arriving shortly. I agreed with them that we would all have dinner tonight at the hotel. It'll be a good opportunity for them to meet Rebecca before the wedding."

"Oh," Preston said, "what fun."

XXXX

Several hours later, Preston paused at the door to the dining room and adjusted his cravat one last time. Rebecca turned to look at him and smiled indulgently, "You look fine," she reassured him. "Besides, I'm sure your father isn't going to care what you're wearing."

"I know that!" he snapped unintentionally and was immediately cowed by the hurt look that crossed her face. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean that. I'm just…" he paused, trying to think how best to explain to her.

"I understand," she said, "I'm nervous too."

"I'm not…" he trailed off as she raised one knowing eyebrow, "all right, I am. I admit it. My father and I didn't exactly part on good terms when I left Boston and…" he trailed off again.

She linked her arm with his so he wouldn't require to explain further. "Come on. James and Louisa will already be there and they're on our side, remember?"

He patted her hand and then, taking a deep breath, led the way into the dining room. He caught sight of his mother first, resplendent in ruby. She saw him too and her face lit up with happiness. Then he saw his father, brows knitted together, and he felt his stomach drop.

"Preston!" Alice got to her feet as he approached the table. Rebecca slipped her arm out of his hold allowing him to embrace his mother. "You're looking well," she said, "and happy," she added meaningfully. She looked past him to where Rebecca was standing, "This must be Miss McKendrick."

"Yes," Preston held out his hand, encouraging her to step forward, "Mother, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, this is my mother, Alice Lodge."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs Lodge," Rebecca said, shaking the other woman's hand gently.

"And you," Alice replied warmly.

Preston cleared his throat. "Father…" Preston Senior rose to his feet. "Father, this is…"

"I heard the introduction the first time," Preston Senior interrupted him. "No need to make it again. Miss McKendrick." He shook her outstretched hand stiffly.

"Mr Lodge," she replied.

"Shall we sit?" Alice said, gesturing to the empty chairs. Preston sat next to his mother with Rebecca next to himself leaving two empty chairs for James and Louisa.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"I understand James ran into an old friend in the lobby," Preston Senior explained, "he said that he and Louisa would be along shortly."

Preston swallowed, "I see." He had been dreading being alone with his parents and had been fervently hoping for his brother's support.

There was a strained moment of silence. Rebecca turned to Alice, "Preston and I are honoured that you felt able to attend the wedding on Saturday."

"It's a pleasure," Alice replied. "We're looking forward to it and we could hardly miss our youngest son's wedding, now could we?" As she spoke, she cast a look in her husband's direction which neither Preston nor Rebecca missed.

"Indeed," Preston Senior replied, "and it fitted in well with some meetings that I had arranged."

"I'm sure it did," Rebecca said under her breath.

"Do you have everything organised?" Alice asked.

"Yes," Rebecca replied, "mostly. Given it's a small affair…"

"The O'Connors' had six hundred people at their wedding in January," Preston Senior interrupted.

"Yes, and look how that marriage has turned out," Alice said.

Rebecca and Preston exchanged glances, "I do hope everything is well," the former said, "I understood Mrs O'Connor to be with child."

"She is," Preston Senior replied tightly. He made no motion to explain further. Alice cast her eyes downward towards her napkin still sitting neatly folded on the table.

"Well, I shall be perfectly happy with it being just the six of us," Preston said. "The most important thing is that Rebecca and I will be married."

"Indeed," Preston Senior said.

"Mother, Father, Preston, Rebecca…I'm sorry we're late." James suddenly appeared at the table followed closely by Louisa. "I'm afraid I got sidetracked." He bent and kissed Rebecca's hand before shaking Preston's, kissing his mother and shaking hands with his father in turn. He pulled out the chair next to Rebecca for his wife before sitting in the last remaining vacant one. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not at all, not at all," Preston Senior said, giving his son a hearty clap on the back. A look of affection passed between them which Preston did not miss. Rebecca saw it too and, reaching over, squeezed his hand under the table.

"Have you ordered?" James asked.

"Not yet," Alice assured him. "Louisa, I must say, that dress is very becoming."

Rebecca had to admit that she was correct. Louisa was wearing a dress of deepest green that set off her colouring beautifully. It made her own yellow effort seem slightly shabby in comparison although it was one of the better ones in her wardrobe.

"Thank you," Louisa replied. "I must say, I think we three are the best dressed ladies in here."

"I agree," Preston said.

Rebecca smiled at him, grateful for his support. The conversation continued around her with Preston Senior, James and Preston discussing business while Alice and Louisa discussed the latest Boston gossip. She chipped in on occasion, but found her mind filled with the wedding due to take place in two days time. Having now met Preston's parents and appearing to have forged a somewhat uneasy relationship, she really didn't want anything to go wrong.

"Louisa, my dear, I think we should tell them," James said suddenly, forcing her attention back to the conversation at hand. She looked at Preston to see what she had missed but he appeared equally confused.

"Oh, no James," Louisa's face fell and she cast a quick look at Rebecca, "Not here."

"But it's perfect when we're all together like this," he continued, clearly excited. "I don't know how I've kept it to myself all this time."

"Kept what to yourself?" Alice asked.

"James…"

He patted her hand indulgently, "Louisa and I have some wonderful news." He lowered his voice to an acceptable level. "We are to welcome a son or daughter at Christmas."

The table erupted. "That _is _wonderful news!" Preston Senior said, getting to his feet and giving his son a hug, "I'm so pleased."

"Louisa, darling, how wonderful!" Alice leaned across the table and squeezed her daughter-in-law's hand. "Isn't that wonderful news, Rebecca?"

Rebecca forced herself to smile, "Yes it is," she pressed Louisa's arm, "I'm so happy for you. For both of you." She could see the pity in the other woman's eyes and hated it. "Truly I am. Wonderful news."

"Congratulations," Preston shook James' hand and then came around to kiss Louisa on the cheek.

"I'm sorry," James said, "I couldn't keep it to myself a moment longer!" He smiled happily at Louisa and then, as if sensing what she had meant earlier, his face fell and he looked at Preston. "Preston…Rebecca…I'm sorry I…"

"More wine anyone?" Preston interrupted him.

"Yes, I think a toast is in order," Preston Senior waited until the glasses were filled and then raised his. "A toast. To James and Louisa and to the first Lodge grandchild."

"The first of many I hope," Alice added, smiling at Rebecca.

"Yes," she echoed, raising her glass, "the first of many."

XXXX

"Your parents seem very happy at the news," she said later. It was late in the evening and the sun had long since set. The evening was winding down and she had stepped out onto the hotel balcony for some air and Preston had followed her.

"Yes, they were," he conceded. "Their first grandchild. How could they not be?"

"Of course," she said, "I'm very happy for James and Louisa." Preston slipped his arms around her waist and dropped a kiss on her neck. "I suppose it momentarily diverted your father from his disapproval of me."

"Nonsense," Preston replied, "I think he rather likes you."

"Whatever gave you that impression?" she asked, "the stiff handshake or the virtual ignorance of me throughout the meal?"

Preston sighed heavily, "He's a difficult man to please. I appreciate your continuing charm towards him."

"There's not much else I can do, is there?" she said. "But I shall be glad when it's just you and I again." She turned in his arms and accepted his kiss.

He pulled back and looked at her, "I wasn't aware that James and Louisa knew about…well…"

"I found Louisa very easy to talk to," she confessed, "I found myself telling her everything and I assume she told James…" she trailed off, thinking about how much she would have liked the reaction of Preston's parents to have been directed towards herself and Preston. "It's fine," she said, breezily, "really it is. I suppose, at some point, your parents will have to know."

"I don't see why," he argued, "it's none of their business."

"But, won't they wonder when we don't have children?"

"Perhaps, but it's not for them to question, is it?"

She searched his face, "You're not…I mean…ashamed of it, are you? Ashamed of me?"

Preston looked shocked, "Of course not! Rebecca, I've told you before that it doesn't matter to me and it doesn't. Quite frankly, I don't care what my parents think about it."

"I'm glad," she said, pressing herself against him.

He kissed her again before reluctantly pulling back, "I suppose we should be retiring."

She smiled ruefully, "Only two more nights until we can be together properly." A shiver went through her, "I can hardly wait."

"Me neither," he confided. "Wait here, I'll fetch your shawl and then accompany you to your room." He hurried back inside the hotel, leaving the door slightly ajar. Rebecca turned back to take in the view, glad of the momentary solitude.

"I found her extremely charming Preston. Not at all as I imagined." Alice's voice floated out of the open door. Rebecca turned and saw Preston's parents standing next to the door, clearly oblivious to her presence.

"Hmm, I suppose," he said grudgingly. "She appears to have good manners and fairly amiable conversation. Still…not what I would have chosen for our son. A farmer's daughter from the frontier."

"Perhaps not, but she _is _his choice and we must learn to respect that. As long as she makes Preston happy…"

"You do know she's barren, don't you?"

Rebecca froze at the words and moved closer to the door, all the time concealing herself from view.

"Preston!" Alice exclaimed, "Whatever makes you think…?"

"It's true. I have it from a very reputable source. Well…perhaps not _barren _exactly," he continued, "but medically advised not to have children. I told you that she was ill over Christmas? Well, that was the reason why. Apparently, she has a heart condition which would prevent her carrying a child. That's what killed her mother, Barton's daughter."

"Oh my. Poor Rebecca," Alice said quietly, "and all that fuss at dinner over Louisa's news…she must have felt so wretched."

"It was momentary, I'm sure. Well I suppose there's one good thing to come out of this sorry match," Preston Senior said with a wistful sigh, "at least the Lodge line won't be tainted by her and her weakness."

The door closed over at that point and Rebecca was left standing alone feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach. Her fear of being rejected because of what was wrong with her had clearly been misplaced. She was perhaps only to be accepted into the Lodge family because there was never any danger of her bearing a child.

She blinked back angry tears, feeling that she would like nothing better than to march back inside and have it out with both of them. To tell them that she loved her son and that she was as worthy of their love and acceptance as Louisa was. But then she thought of Preston and how upset he would be and good sense won out. Her mind whirred. If Preston Senior disliked her that much then why should she try to win his favour?

A plan formulated in her mind. The one thing that was guaranteed to anger him and give her a small sense of satisfaction would be to have a child. To taint the Lodge line. After her marriage, that was exactly what she intended to do.


	28. Chapter 28

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**June 9****th**** 1871**

**Denver**

When she woke the following morning, Rebecca realised that she was unwell. Sitting up in bed, she felt the room spin around her and she had to lie back down again. She had barely slept the night before, her mind going over and over what she had heard the previous night and what she was going to do about it. Her initial, somewhat rash, decision to have a baby had seemed such a good idea at the time, but now having thought about it, she realised how foolish it would be to put herself at such risk just to spite her future father-in-law.

As she lay contemplating this, there was a soft knock at the door. Pulling on her dressing gown she got to her feet and stumbled to the door, hoping it wasn't Preston. To her relief, it was Louisa.

"Good morning," the other woman greeted her, "are you all right?"

"Fine," she lied. "And you?"

"I'm fine," Louisa replied. "I wanted to…" she paused, clearly embarrassed, "I wanted to apologise for last night. I didn't expect James to blurt out our news like that."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Rebecca reassured her. "It's wonderful news and you have every right to share it."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts," she insisted, "I can't have every woman I know walking on eggshells whenever the subject of pregnancy comes up."

Louisa smiled gratefully. "Are you coming down for breakfast?"

"I…um…" Rebecca wasn't sure she could stand to sit at the table with Preston Senior, especially feeling the way she did.

"Louisa, Rebecca," Preston suddenly appeared, "good morning ladies."

"Good morning Preston," Louisa said, "you seem ebullient this morning."

"It's a beautiful day and I'm getting married tomorrow," Preston said, winking at Rebecca, "I couldn't be happier."

Louisa smiled, "I'll leave you to it. We'll see you downstairs shortly," she cast a look at Rebecca and then disappeared back down the corridor.

"Did you oversleep?" Preston asked, stepping into the room.

Rebecca closed the door over but left it slightly ajar, propriety still winning out. "I suppose I did. It must have been all the travelling we did yesterday."

"I told my parents we would join them for breakfast in half an hour."

"Oh," she said, feeling the blackness start to descend at the very thought. She sat down on the edge of the bed, hoping he would leave soon so she could take some digitalis.

"That is all right, isn't it?" he looked at her searchingly.

"Fine," she replied, smiling as best she could.

"Excellent," he clapped his hands together, "I really think this has gone better than I had hoped it would. I'll see you downstairs shortly." He kissed her on the cheek and then hurried to the door. "I love you, Rebecca," he said, opening the door.

She felt a rush of love towards him, "I love you too," she said. He grinned at her and then left the room. Rebecca rushed over to the drawer in the vanity table and took out the digitalis. She took two drops and felt the tension instantly ease. Clearly the stress of the situation was affecting her condition. She had to try and calm down, keep things in perspective and, above all, remember that she was marrying the man she loved and that was supposed to be a good thing.

XXXX

Half an hour later, she descended the stairs of the hotel and was about to make her way into the dining room when she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw James coming through the front door. He touched his hat and hurried over.

"Good morning Rebecca," he greeted her.

"Good morning," she replied.

"I take it you're well this morning?"

"Yes, of course, and you?"

"Very well indeed," he replied, with a smile she could only attribute to his approaching parenthood. "I wanted to apologise for last night."

She wasn't sure she could bear to hear another apology and held up her hand, "Please, you don't have to say anymore."

"But…"

"Preston and I are very happy for you and Louisa."

He smiled at her gratefully, "I'd also like to apologise for my Father's behaviour. I know he wasn't exactly welcoming towards you."

Rebecca smiled ruefully, "After everything that's happened, I genuinely wasn't expecting him to be."

"I'm sure that over time he'll change his opinion," he reassured her, "but if he doesn't, just remember that you're marrying Preston, not our father."

Rebecca laughed, "I'm very glad about that."

He held out his arm, "May I escort you through?"

She accepted his offer and allowed him to lead her into the dining room where the others were already waiting. As they approached, Preston stood to pull out her chair but she noticed his father made no effort to greet her.

"Good morning Rebecca," Alice greeted her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," she lied, "like a log in fact. I was only saying to Preston earlier that all the travelling must have tired me out."

"Did you see him then?" Preston Senior asked, his question directed towards James, his tone wary.

"Yes I did," James replied, "he agreed to meet us at noon to discuss it. He seems happy to oblige."

Preston Senior looked towards his younger son, "Preston, why don't you come along?"

"Sir?" Preston looked up.

"James and I are intending to meet a very influential contact this afternoon. I'm suggesting you come along too. It might prove fortuitous for you."

Preston glanced at Rebecca, "Well I…yes sir…that would be fine."

"Good," Preston Senior said, "I'm sure Miss McKendrick can find something to amuse herself with in your absence." There was no mistaking the contempt in his tone and Rebecca opened her mouth to respond but Alice spoke first.

"Rebecca, Louisa and I are going shopping this morning," she declared.

"We are?" Rebecca said before she could catch herself.

"Of course. We can't come to Denver and not," Alice smiled, "besides, it'll give me an opportunity to find out more about the woman who I can tell is destined to become one of my favourite daughters-in-law."

XXXX

Alice, Louisa and Rebecca spent the morning going around the various stores in Denver perusing their wares. It appeared that the Lodge name opened many doors and sales assistants fawned over them as if they were royalty. It didn't sit easily with Rebecca, but she said nothing. Afterwards, as they sat having lunch in a beautiful restaurant, she glanced down again at the bag containing the beautiful dress Alice had insisted on purchasing for her to wear for her departure after the wedding.

"It really is too much," she said again. "You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," Alice replied, "Preston and I wanted to buy you something to welcome you into the family and it did suit you very well. Scarlet really does bring out your colouring." She must have seen the dubiety on Rebecca's face, "My dear," she said quietly, "I'm not a fool. I know that my husband hasn't exactly been warm towards you…"

Rebecca looked away, "I don't…"

"…but I'm afraid that's just his way," she sighed. "He isn't used to people defying him and I suspect he thought that he could convince Preston not to marry you."

"Mrs Lodge…"

"But, given the way my son looks at you, I can see that would be impossible. He will come around, my dear, I promise you. Especially if I have any say in the matter." She winked at Louisa.

"At least he needn't worry about my tainting the Lodge line," Rebecca said, a slight note of bitterness in her tone. Alice and Louisa exchanged glances. "I'm sorry," she said, ashamed by her outburst, "I shouldn't have…"

"I don't understand," Alice said. Then realisation dawned on her face, "Rebecca, did you hear…?"

"I happened to be on the terrace when you and Mr Lodge were talking last night," she admitted, "I heard what he said about me."

"Oh Lord," Alice said, putting her spoon down, her hand reaching to her throat, "Oh my dear Rebecca…I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you had been privy to the conversation." She sighed heavily. "What he said was wrong."

"He's free to speak his mind," Rebecca said, "and he's entitled to his opinion."

"Yes, but what he said was cruel," Alice looked upset, "I would never wish to hurt you, Rebecca. I'm so very sorry. Please forgive me."

"It's not you I would need to forgive," she said, "but I've known of the family's disapproval for me for some time so I don't intend to let comments like that get to me."

There was a long silence. "I am sorry for your situation," Alice said quietly, "I can't imagine how I would feel in your position having been fortunate enough to bear five healthy sons…" she trailed off, "you must not think of it as a failing on your part."

"I don't," she raised her chin defiantly, "Preston loves me regardless and that's all that matters." The conversation switched then onto other things, but Rebecca couldn't help mulling over Alice's words. Was it a failing? Was she not all she could be because of it?

XXXX

Across town, Preston, James and their father were having lunch in an exclusive gentlemen's club with David O'Hagan, a shrewd yet friendly Irishman. A loud, blustery man he would have been seen by many as crude were it not for his substantial wealth and connections.

"Well now," he declared once the formalities were over and they were sat at a table in the corner, "you're the son who ran off to the country to make his fortune."

Preston realised that the comment was directed at himself. "Yes, yes I suppose I am."

"Making a new life on the frontier," O'Hagan shook his head, "Remarkable. Remarkable. And brave. Aren't you proud of your son, Lodge?"

"Very proud of course," Preston Senior said, smiling at his youngest, "Preston's doing very well in Colorado."

Preston knew his father wasn't being entirely honest, but he nodded his thanks for the compliment.

"And I hear you have a pretty girl," O'Hagan continued.

"Indeed I do," Preston replied, "In fact, we're to be married here in Denver tomorrow."

"Wonderful!" O'Hagan slapped him heartily on the back, "that calls for another round of drinks!" He gestured to the waiter who arrived with more whisky. "Congratulations son," he proposed, "long may you be happy with the girl."

Preston coughed, "Thank you." He glanced at his father who merely regarded him coolly.

"Down to business then," O'Hagan continued after draining his glass, "I have the land you want, so how much are you willing to pay me?"

Preston stared at him, "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"Mr O'Hagan purchased some farming land in Colorado Springs from the bank," James explained. "Rebecca's farm." Preston looked at his brother. "He's willing to sell it to you."

"Only if you want it, of course," Preston Senior added, his tone indicating he would prefer it if Preston decided he didn't want it.

"I was going to develop it myself," O'Hagan said, "but I'm all for a good story of love and romance and after speaking to your brother here," he gestured to James, "he persuaded me to agree to sell it to you. For a reasonable price."

"It could be your wedding gift to Rebecca," James encouraged.

Preston looked at O'Hagan, "Well I…I didn't know. I hadn't really thought…"

O'Hagan looked at him squarely, "Do you want the damn land or not?"

XXXX

When the ladies returned to the hotel later that afternoon, the concierge stopped Rebecca as she was about to make her way upstairs. "There's a gentleman here to see you, ma'am," he said. "He's in the lounge."

"Thank you," she replied, curious as to who it might be. As she walked into the lounge, she glanced around and saw Matthew sitting at the far end. "Matthew!" she exclaimed. He got to his feet and hurried over to her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, as he enveloped her in an embrace.

"I was bringing back a fugitive who skipped trial. Gotta stay overnight so figured I'd invite myself to the ceremony tomorrow," he said, "if that's all right with you?"

As sure as she had been that she wanted no-one from town to be there, Rebecca found herself delighted that he had come. "I'd like nothing better," she said. "How is everything back home? Michaela and Katie?"

"They're both fine," he replied, "everyone sends their love and best wishes."

"I'm so pleased to see you," she said genuinely.

"How's it been here?" he asked, "What are Preston's parents like?"

"His mother's charming, but his father is as expected," she replied, "it's good to see a friendly face."

Matthew's expression darkened, "Well, what about Preston? Ain't he sticking up for you?"

"Of course he is, but…"

"Rebecca? Rebecca!" She heard her name being called and turned to see Preston hurrying towards her, "I have good news my darling! I…" he paused. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Matthew, what a pleasant surprise."

"Preston."

"Preston, Matthew's here on official business and he's going to come to the wedding tomorrow," Rebecca explained excitedly. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"Indeed it is," Preston replied in a tone that suggested it was anything but. Rebecca, feeling better than she had in days, missed his meaning. "How convenient that you happened to be in town."

"Yeah well, sometimes it just happens like that," Matthew replied.

"I'm sure it does."

"You must join us for dinner tonight," Rebecca said.

Matthew glanced at Preston, "Uh…I'm not sure…"

"Of course you must!" she insisted, "Isn't that right, Preston?"

"Of course," Preston said, "I can't think of anything that would give me greater pleasure."

The two men eyeballed each other. "That's very kind, thank you," Matthew said.

Rebecca turned back to Preston, "You said you had good news?"

Preston glanced past her at Matthew, "It can wait."

XXXX

"And what is it you do, Mr Cooper?" Alice asked later that evening as they ate dinner in the hotel dining room.

"I'm the local Sheriff, Ma'am."

"Sheriff! That must be quite a dangerous job for such a young man. Your mother must worry about you constantly."

"She does," he said ruefully.

"Matthew's 'mother' is Doctor Quinn," Preston said.

"Oh yes," Alice said, "We've heard a lot about Doctor Quinn from Preston."

"Have you and Miss McKendrick known each other long?" Preston Senior asked.

"Pretty much all our lives," Matthew replied, smiling at Rebecca, "She used to tease me when we were kids."

"I did not!" Rebecca laughed.

"Did too!"

"Matthew is prone to exaggeration," she said.

"You must be _very _good friends for him to make the trip," Preston Senior observed.

"I happened to be in town, sir, and I'm glad that I was," Matthew replied.

"Ah, so you didn't come here specifically for the wedding then?"

Rebecca cursed the man under her breath, "We're very good friends and I'm very glad that he's here. In fact," she said, "I'd be very happy, Matthew, if you'd agree to give me away tomorrow."

Matthew looked at her, slightly stunned. "Well, I…"

"Please," she said, "I was planning to simply walk down the aisle myself but…it would mean so much to me if you would do it."

He nodded, "Sure, sure I'll do it."

"I think this calls for a toast," James said, "to Preston and Rebecca."

"Preston and Rebecca," the others echoed.

Later, once dinner was over, and everyone was planning to make their way to bed, Rebecca and Matthew found themselves alone in the hallway.

"I really am glad you're here," she repeated, "and please ignore whatever Preston's father says."

"He don't bother me," Matthew replied, "Don't like it if he ain't nice to you though."

"Don't worry about me," she replied, "hopefully after tomorrow I won't have to see him again for a long time."

He looked squarely at her, "You sure you're doing the right thing?"

Rebecca looked back, "What do you mean?"

"I mean marrying Preston," he said, "you sure it's what you want?"

"Matthew…"

"I'm serious," he said, "it ain't too late to change your mind."

"I have no intention of changing my mind," she said gently, "I love Preston and he loves me and that's all that matters."

Matthew nodded, "Long as you're sure."

"I _am _sure," she said, patting his arm affectionately, "but I appreciate your concern."

At that moment, Preston appeared beside them. "Matthew," he said, "would you mind if I had some time alone with my fiancée?"

"Sure," Matthew said, "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Rebecca said, before turning back to Preston. "Tomorrow's the big day," she said, "and I can't wait."

"What is he really doing here?" he asked her.

"He came to bring someone back for trial like he said."

"And you believe that?"

Rebecca stared at him, "What are you suggesting? That he lied?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Preston replied, "it's quite clear the man has feelings for you."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed, "Matthew is my friend, that's all."

"I've seen the way he looks at you," Preston persisted.

"We have had this conversation before," she retorted, "and I told you then that there is nothing between Matthew and I except friendship. Why can't you accept that?"

"Forgive me for being ever so slightly suspicious!" he snapped.

Rebecca stepped back from him, "Preston, if you doubt the strength of my feelings for you then maybe we shouldn't be getting married tomorrow."

"Is that what you want?" he demanded.

"Is it what _you _want?" she threw back.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. "Of course not," he said, finally.

"Well then," she sighed, "after tomorrow I will be yours in mind, body and soul and there will be nothing that will be able to tear us apart. The last few months we've been…stressed and anxious but tomorrow…tomorrow will prove that it will have all been worth it." She stepped closer to him and wound her arms around her waist. "I love _you_ and only you."

He bent his head and kissed her. "And I love only you."

She returned his kiss and then pulled back, her face flushed, "Goodnight then." She backed away from him towards the stairs.

"Goodnight," he replied.

"Oh," she said, pausing, "you never told me the good news."

He smiled, "After the wedding. I'll tell you then."


	29. Chapter 29

**Bit of smut in this chapter!! I am no expert at writing sex but hey-ho! Hope you enjoy and please review!**

**June 10****th**** 1871**

**Denver**

Preston woke early on his wedding day, just as the birds were beginning their morning song. For a long time, he lay in bed looking at the ceiling, thinking to himself that it would be the last morning that he would wake up alone. From tomorrow morning onwards, he would only have to glance down and Rebecca would be sleeping by his side, exhausted and sated by her first taste of marital relations. He was slightly shocked by the depravity of his own thoughts, but had to confess that he had thought of little else for weeks now. The moments they had shared together over the last few months had driven him almost to the point of madness. It gave him quite a thought that if Brian had not chanced upon them on their picnic on Valentine's Day that his hands may have strayed further over Rebecca's body than they had any right to do.

It was the knocking at his door several hours later that roused him from a sleep he hadn't intended to fall into. Hurrying to answer it, he saw James on the other side grinning at him.

"Look at you, not even dressed yet," he teased, stepping inside.

"What time is it?" Preston asked.

"Just gone nine. It's all right. We don't have to be at the church until twelve. Time to have a hearty breakfast." He watched as Preston turned and looked at the suit that was hanging on the wardrobe door. "Nervous?"

"Of course not," Preston replied, "Why should I be nervous?"

"It's not every day a man marries his one true love."

"She _is _my one true love, James," he told his brother excitedly.

"I know she is. So I'll ask you again. Are you nervous?"

"A little," he confessed.

"Everything will be fine," James reassured him. "Remember how worried I was the morning of my wedding and what you said to calm me down?"

Preston turned back from where he had been washing his face. "I think it was something along the lines of 'why on earth would you want to get married anyway?' They both laughed.

"Exactly," James said, "and it worked, didn't it?"

Preston perched on the bed opposite his brother, "What has it been like these last three years? Being married to Louisa, that is?"

"Do you want the truth or what we tell people?" James quipped.

"The truth," Preston replied seriously.

James nodded. "Well, it's not easy. Marriage isn't an easy thing, Preston. It's about two people coming together with a different set of ideas and values and learning to live together. Learning to respect each other's opinions. Learning to compromise. Sometimes you'll be right and sometimes she'll be right. The trick is knowing when to give in and when to stand your ground."

"And the…uh…the physical side?"

James laughed uproariously, "That, my dear brother, is something you're going to have to find out for yourself with _your own _wife!"

XXXX

By eleven-thirty, Rebecca felt as though she had been primped and preened to the gunnels. Barely had she had time to eat breakfast before Louisa and Alice had appeared to help her get ready. It had been a whirlwind of make-up, hair, jewellery, and finally, the dress. It was exactly what she had wanted, not too plain and not too ostentatious. After all, she was twenty-five, old by some standards to be marrying. She had found it in a store in the city the last time she had visited. It was long and white with jewels encrusted on the bodice and there was a simple veil to go with it. Classic, just how she wanted it.

To her relief, she had woken with none of the ill-effects of her condition. She felt amazingly calm and peaceful, as though all the stresses and strains of the last few months and weeks were gone and she could simply enjoy the day. _And the night_, a little voice in her head said and she couldn't help smiling. Indeed, tonight would be the night when she and Preston would finally be together as man and wife.

"There," Louisa declared, "I think you're finally presentable to get married."

Rebecca looked at herself in the mirror and wondered for a brief moment who the woman looking back at her was. The dress fit beautifully and Louisa, who it turned out had a talent for styling hair, had swept hers up on top of her head and fastened it with pins. She was wearing jewellery her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday and the whole set up made her look far removed from the little farm girl she had been.

"All we have to do now is fit the veil," Alice said, lifting it from the bed.

"I appreciate everything both of you have done," Rebecca said, "I would have been lost without you."

"Nonsense," Louisa replied, "you would have managed. But where is the fun in doing it alone?"

Alice fitted the veil to the crown of her head and allowed the material to float down over her face, "You look wonderful, my dear."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied and wished, not for the first time, that her own mother was there.

"We should be going," Louisa said, checking the clock on the dresser, "You don't want to keep Preston waiting too long."

"Is Matthew here?" she asked.

"He's downstairs," Alice replied, "and looking very handsome when I passed him earlier."

The three of them left the room and made their way down the stairs of the hotel to the lobby where Matthew was, indeed, waiting. As she approached him, Rebecca saw how stunned he looked and hoped fervently that he wasn't about to repeat his words from the previous evening.

"Matthew," she greeted him cautiously.

"Rebecca," he replied, "you look…you look beautiful."

"Thank you," she said.

He set his jaw, "Preston's a lucky man."

She put her arm through his, "I appreciate that."

"The carriage is outside," Louisa said, "we'd better go."

The four of them left the hotel and climbed into the carriage that would take them to the nearby church. The weather was warm and sunny and Rebecca felt it glow pleasantly on her as they made the short journey. As they pulled up at the door, Louisa and Alice got out first, leaving her and Matthew alone.

"You ready?" he asked her. She nodded. "Last chance to…" She looked at him and he smiled. "Let's go then."

XXXX

"Preston, if you keep playing with your collar, I'm going to cut your hand off!" James reproached his brother quietly at the front of the church.

"Sorry," Preston replied, "I can't help it. It's itchy."

"There's nothing wrong with it," James replied, turning to face him, "You look fine."

"What time is it now?"

"Just going on twelve."

"Let's hope she's not intending to be late," Preston Senior said from the pew behind them.

Preston bit his tongue, but inside, he hoped that she hadn't changed her mind. At that moment, there was activity at the door and he turned to see his mother and Louisa hurrying inside and up the aisle to join his father. He looked questioningly at them.

"Everything is fine," Louisa said, "She's here."

He let out a shaky breath and turned back to face the minister. At that moment, the pianist, who was a hundred and five if he was a day, began playing the wedding march and the small group got to their feet. Preston kept his eyes firmly on the altar.

"Preston, for heaven's sake turn and look at her!" James hissed.

Preston turned and watched as Rebecca came down the aisle on Matthew's arm. He couldn't see her face at first, as it was hidden by the veil but, as she drew closer, he made out her features and saw that she was smiling. When she reached him, she turned to Matthew who gave her a brief kiss on the cheek and then stepped back, allowing her to stand beside her soon-to-be husband.

"You look…beautiful," he said, feeling himself rather choked up.

"Thank you," she whispered, "you look rather handsome yourself."

The minister stepped forward, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a holy state, ordained by God and is the giving and receiving of mutual love, support and respect."

Rebecca barely heard what was being said. She couldn't tear her gaze away from Preston's, unable to believe that they had reached this crucial stage, that she was in the process of becoming Mrs Lodge…The next thing she knew, Preston had taken the ring from James and was reaching for her hand.

"Preston, repeat after me…I, Preston Alexander Lodge, do take thee Rebecca Caroline McKendrick to be my lawful wedded wife…"

Preston repeated the vows, pausing meaningfully as he said "in sickness and in health." Rebecca felt as though her heart was going to burst, but in a good way.

"Til death do us part," he finished.

"Yes," she whispered so only he could hear, "til death do us part."

XXXX

"A toast!" James declared, getting to his feet, "To the bride and groom. Mr and Mrs Lodge!" The others joined in the sentiment. "I only hope that Preston and Rebecca will be as happy together as Louisa and I have been."

"Thank you, James," Preston said, standing as his brother sat down. "I'd like to thank those of you for attending today. It meant a lot to both of us, I know. And especially thank you to Matthew, who did such a _terrific _job in giving Rebecca away."

Rebecca met Matthew's gaze and gave him a smile, which he returned.

"But most of all, I'd like to thank my wife," he continued, turning to face her, "who has made me very happy by marrying me today and with whom I look forward to sharing many happy years."

"Hear hear!" James said, as he bent and kissed her.

The 'speeches' over, the conversation around the table moved on to other things and Louisa leaned over to speak to Rebecca. "It really was a beautiful ceremony."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied.

"Was it what you wanted?"

"Absolutely. I couldn't have wished for anything better."

Louisa grinned, "One could say, the best is yet to come." She laughed as Rebecca blushed. "I'll give you one piece of advice, sister."

"Oh yes, what's that?"

"Never go to bed on an argument. Always make sure you've resolved your differences before retiring."

"Why's that?"

"Because believe me, your marital bed is the one place where you can escape all the pain and troubles of the world. You need it to be sacred and special and there's nothing worse than lying there with an invisible barrier between you because of some petty fight." Louisa nodded sagely, "Don't forget it."

Rebecca smiled, "I'll try. In all honesty, I'm quite looking forward to getting there.

XXXX

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"It's not that I don't want to. I mean, you have to know that I do…"

"I know."

"I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's just been all the stress of the last few days or…"

"It's fine."

Rebecca rolled onto her side and propped herself onto her elbow looking down at Preston. "I know it isn't," she said, "not really."

He turned his head and looked at her, "If you're not ready, then you're not ready. I can hardly force you."

"But I _am _ready! At least, I thought I was. I've spent weeks, months, thinking about us finally being together and then, when the moment finally comes…" she trailed off, thinking back to the moment ten minutes ago when she had told him to get off because he was hurting her. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she rolled over onto her back and resumed staring at the ceiling. She had assumed, like in one of those terrible novels Loren stocked, that when the wedding night came she would be swept away on a river of unending passion and pleasure. In the end, the reality was far from it.

It was Preston's turn to roll over and look down at her, "It's not as if tonight's the only night we're going to be together. We'll be sharing a bed for the rest of our lives."

"I know that," Rebecca sighed, "but it's our wedding night! It's supposed to be tradition!" He laughed and she looked at him sharply, "What's so funny?"

"You are," he said lovingly, "so concerned with how you think it should be."

"And you're not?" she challenged, "I know that you're disappointed."

"Not at all."

"Don't lie, Preston."

"I'm not lying," he reassured her, "being here with you right now is good enough for me. The rest will come later."

"I wish I shared your confidence," she replied, stifling a yawn.

"See that? You're tired," he said, "No wonder you don't want to."

"But I _do _want to!"

"Let's get some sleep and in the morning, you'll feel better. We still have our honeymoon, remember."

"And you conveniently won't tell me where we're going."

"I'm allowed a little mystery, surely?"

"I suppose." She looked at him again, "You still haven't told me this good news you were going on about yesterday." He smiled triumphantly at her. "What?"

"I met with a very important man yesterday," Preston said, "A Mr O'Hagan, who happens to own some land in Colorado."

"And?"

"And, he wanted to sell it to me."

"Why would he think you wanted it?" she asked, "You already have the land for the house and the hotel."

"He thought I might like it as a gift."

"A gift for who?"

"For you."

Rebecca frowned, "Why would this man, whom I've never met, think I would like the gift of some land in Colorado?"

"Well it very much depends on where _exactly _the land is."

"Preston!"

"It's your farm," he explained. Rebecca's eyes widened, "I made him an offer for it and he accepted. Its mine, which technically means it's yours, if you want it."

"I can't…I can't believe it!" she gasped, "I can't believe that you would…" tears sprang into her eyes, "that you would…"

"I'd hoped you'd be happy about it," Preston said, concerned, "I didn't do it to upset you."

Rebecca shook her head, "You haven't. I'm sorry, you haven't," she wiped her eyes viciously, "I just never thought that I'd ever get the chance to get it back and…thank you, thank you!" She threw herself on top of him and kissed him, kneeing him accidentally in the groin as she did so, causing him to groan. "Oh Lord, I'm sorry!" she gasped, her hand sliding down to his abdomen, "Are you all right? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Rebecca," he interrupted, "if the intention is for us to go to sleep now, then I'd ask that you please remove your hand from…down there." She snatched her hand back as though she had been burnt, but she remained on all fours above him, the angle affording him a tantalising glimpse of her breasts through the open buttons of her nightdress. "In fact," he said, "it may be best if you returned to your own side of the bed."

"Maybe I don't want to sleep anymore," she said, a slow smile playing on her face.

"But I thought…" She cut him off by lowering herself down and kissing him. His hands moved to her waist and then down over her buttocks, dragging the material of her nightdress back up her body, exposing her nakedness, the result of their earlier attempt. She paused and pulled herself back up from him, feeling rather exposed in this seemingly unnatural position.

As though reading her mind, Preston gently put his hands back on her waist and lowered her onto her side and over onto her back where she instinctively parted her thighs and allowed him to rest between them. She still felt nervous, but not nearly as much as she had before, though her heart was pounding in her chest. He pushed her nightdress up her body and over her head, leaving her naked beneath him. Instinctively, she tried to cover her chest with her arms, but he gently moved them away, allowing himself to look at her properly for the first time.

"Beautiful," he murmured, "You're so beautiful."

Rebecca didn't feel beautiful. She felt worried and scared, afraid of how it was going to feel. Knowing that this was what hindered them previously, she tried to push the thoughts out of her mind, but the apprehension must have shown on her face.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered.

"I know," she replied, her voice shaking slightly. He lowered himself onto her and she took his weight, accepting his kiss when it came. Tentatively, she placed her hands on his body, running them gently up the length of his back, causing him to shiver slightly.

"Are you cold?" she whispered naively.

Preston lifted his head from her neck and smiled down at her, "No." Then he kissed down her throat and chest to her breast, his mouth catching her nipple and slowly encircling it with his tongue.

Rebecca felt her breath catch in her throat. "Is this what you did with her?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Preston pulled back and looked at her, "Rebecca!"

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to…sorry." He looked vaguely irritated and she cupped his face in her hands, "Don't stop," she said, "please don't stop." He resumed what he had been doing, his hand slowly sliding between her legs to stroke her in places she had never wanted to admit existed. Little by little, Rebecca felt every muscle in her body start to relax, felt herself opening, willing, wanting. Eventually, he slid himself back up her body to kiss her and she knew that it was now or never.

She felt him pushing at her, knowing that he was meeting resistance and yet trying desperately to tell herself that there was no need to resist, no reason to resist. It had been at this point earlier that she had told him he would have to stop, but this time she was determined not to. Slowly, gently, he crept inside her, inch by inch. It burned, but she tried to ignore it and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Once he was fully encased inside her, he started to rock against her. The action, though alien to her, appeared to provoke an instinctive reaction and she found herself raising her hips in time to meet his.

"My darling, darling Rebecca…" Preston murmured in her ear, "darling, sweet, wonderful Rebecca…"

Rebecca wanted to say something back, but she didn't know what. It might be so silly that he might laugh at her. Besides, she was too busy trying to concentrate on the heavy sensation within her abdomen. She felt a flush of heat creep up her body and could hear her own breathing becoming increasingly ragged. He was starting to move more quickly within her and she felt a sudden desperate need to keep him there. Her hands slipped down his back and over his buttocks and she instinctively pulled him towards her, needing the sensations to continue.

The action caused Preston to raise himself up and look at her briefly before kissing her again fiercely. She gasped against his mouth and then heard a cry tear from her lips as hot feelings of pleasure began in her lower abdomen and slowly worked their way up her body. She twisted her face away from him and cried out again, all the time holding him within her, unwilling to allow him to so much as give the impression that he would withdraw from her.

"Preston…"

"Look at me," he ordered her in a strained voice and she turned her head back and opened her eyes. "Rebecca…"

"Oh Lord…" she whispered. There couldn't be much longer to go, there just couldn't be. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it. "Preston, I can't…" He moved even quicker inside her and she cried out again. Then she felt a heat deep inside her, and then him slowing and her own rhythm slowing until he was barely moving inside of her. Then he stopped and rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, sliding gently out of her as he did so.

For a long moment they lay there, their breathing slowly regulating. Rebecca rested her head against his chest, listening to his racing heart beneath.

"Was it all right?" Preston asked finally.

She smiled against him, "It was ok, I suppose."

He jerked back from her slightly and looked down as she looked up to meet his gaze. "It was ok, _you suppose_?" he echoed.

She kissed his chin, "I'm joking. It wasn't what I expected. In a good way," she added hurriedly. He looked slightly unsure. "I look forward to doing it again and again," she grinned. Preston appeared to accept this and she lay back down on him again, feeling her eyes heavy with sleep. "Oh!" she said, jerking up suddenly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I should take it out."

Preston frowned, "Take what out?"

"Why the…" Rebecca paused, "I mean the…"

"The…?" he prompted.

"You know…the thing."

"Thing?"

"The thing that Michaela gave me as a precaution." She looked meaningfully at him."Oh," he said, "the thing." She knew he had forgotten all about it, in fact, didn't even know what 'it' was. "Yes, yes, you must."

She retrieved her nightdress from where it had been tossed casually onto the floor and slipped it over her head before sliding out of the bed and moving over to where the chamber pot sat in the corner. When she turned back, Preston was watching her curiously. "Would you mind looking away?"

"Well I…"

"Please," she added. "I'd feel more comfortable…right now…" it did seem rather farcical that having just explored her body in ways no other man ever had that she should feel embarrassed by removing her method of contraception, but there was something different about standing in the middle of the room dealing with _that area _in front of him as opposed to lying in bed with him.

"Of course," Preston said. He rolled over onto his other side and closed his eyes for good measure. He was incredibly curious, but only good manners prevailed him from turning back. As he lay there, however, he hoped that this would not be the climax to every occasion of lovemaking.


	30. Chapter 30

**I'm playing fast and loose with the timeline now. Hope nobody minds! Some more smut in this chapter! Please read and review :)**

**August 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

"There you go Mr Jackson. Your money is now safely deposited in the Bank of Colorado with my _personal_ assurance that it will make even more money for you. And I'd like to thank you once again for choosing to bank with us." Preston handed his latest customer a cigar before showing him out of the bank and back into the sunshine of a perfect Colorado afternoon. The town was bustling as usual, something which made him feel proud to be one of its citizens.

As he stood surveying, he saw Michaela coming out of the clinic, showing out her last patient. Mindful that Rebecca had had an appointment with her earlier that day, he hurried across the street to speak to her.

"Michaela!" he called out, catching her attention before she could go back inside.

"Good afternoon Preston," she replied.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, I just wanted to check that everything was all right with Rebecca. I know that she had an appointment with you this morning."

"Yes, she did," Michaela said, "but I'm afraid that I can't discuss our meeting with you."

Preston frowned, "I'm sorry?"

"All discussions with my patients have to remain confidential."

"I'm her husband!" he exclaimed.

"I know, and I don't mean to be difficult but…well, say for instance there was something she didn't want you to know and I told you? It would ruin the trust that she had placed in me as her doctor."

Preston felt panic suddenly flood through him, "Something's wrong, isn't it? With her health…what is it? Is it serious…?"

"Preston, Preston!" Michaela held up her hands, "Nothing is wrong with Rebecca. I was merely speaking hypothetically."

"Well why didn't you say so?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, Preston, I…"

"Seeing as we're discussing business, Michaela," he interrupted her, "perhaps I could take this moment to remind you that your most recent loan payment is nearly two weeks late."

Michaela looked worried, "I know and we will have the money…"

"There will be late fees," he told her, "and the next payment is due in almost two weeks."

"You'll have your money, Preston," she replied robustly.

"Good," he said, turning away and heading over to the store where he knew Rebecca would be coming to the end of her working day.

When he stepped inside, she was busy helping a woman choose fabric in the corner, so he leant against the counter watching her and told himself for the one millionth time how lucky he was that she was his wife.

"Preston!" she said, catching sight of him. "I'll leave you to have a look and see what you want," she said to the customer before hurrying over to greet him with a kiss. "Shouldn't you be at the bank?"

"I should, but I wanted to come and see how you were," he replied.

"I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?"

"Well…" he glanced around, not really wanting to discuss her health in the middle of the store.

"Oh…" she caught his meaning, "yes, I'm fine. Everything is fine."

"Good," he said, kissing her again. "Michaela wouldn't tell me."

"Michaela?"

"I saw her and I asked her if everything was all right and she told me that she couldn't tell me because she was your doctor and it was confidential!" he was still outraged. "And me your husband!"

Rebecca smiled, "I suppose we should be pleased at her discretion."

"I would be if it was directed at someone other than myself," he replied pettily.

"Never mind," she said, "I would have told you myself the minute I saw you. I would have come over to the bank if I hadn't been so busy here." At that, the customer gestured to her and she excused herself to go back over and attend to her. The woman selected blue fabric and requested enough for two dresses. Rebecca lifted it and took it over to the cutting table while the customer looked at other products. Preston followed her over. "Don't you have your own work to be getting on with?" she asked with a smile.

"I do," he said, "but…"

"But what?"

"Well…how long until Loren is able to come back to work?"

"I've no idea. He's still at the clinic and, from what Michaela says, it can take time to recover from something as serious as a stroke."

"Yes, yes, but in the meantime," he insisted, "you're here having to run the whole place single-handedly."

"Something which I'm more than capable of doing."

"Rebecca." She ignored him. "Rebecca!"

"Preston," she sighed, "I'm trying to work!"

"I can see that…"

"Well, can you let me get on with it then please?" She looked up and saw the expression on his face. "I'm _fine._ I'll see you at Grace's at five." He hesitated. "Preston…"

"All right," he said, holding up his hands, "I see I'm not going to be able to have a conversation about this with you here. Perhaps we can discuss it more this evening." He dropped a light kiss on her cheek and then left the store.

Rebecca sighed, finished cutting the cloth and then moved back to the counter where the woman was waiting.

"Newlywed?" the woman asked.

"Two months," Rebecca replied.

"Feel like killin' him yet?"

Rebecca laughed, "Yet? I felt that way _before _the wedding."

The next two hours seemed to fly by with customers coming in and out as though there was a famine. Finally, as the clock on the wall turned to five o'clock, Rebecca finished sweeping the floor and was about to close up when Dorothy came barrelling in, her mouth set in a grim line.

"Dorothy," Rebecca greeted her, "What can I..?"

"Rebecca," Dorothy began, in an exasperated tone, "I know it's not right to come to you with this but, quite frankly, I don't know what else to do! I mean the nerve of the man and…well…he is your husband…"

"What happened?"

"Preston threatened to call in my loan on the Gazette because of the book I'm writing about Cloud Dancing!" Dorothy was clearly outraged. "He actually said to me that he wasn't prepared to lose business because of my…what did he call it…foolish indiscretions?!"

Rebecca sighed, "I see."

"Could you talk to him for me?"

"Well, I…"

"Please, Rebecca, I know he would listen to you. I love the Gazette but I love writing this book too and I want to tell Cloud Dancing's story. Please?" Her expression was beseeching.

"I'll see what I can do," Rebecca relented. "But I can't promise anything, Dorothy. Preston rarely listens to me about anything to do with business."

"Oh, thank you!" Dorothy looked relieved, "I appreciate it Rebecca I really do." With that, she left the store.

"You might appreciate it," Rebecca muttered to herself, "but Preston won't."

XXXX

Shortly thereafter, she made her way into Grace's Café and found Preston waiting for her. As she approached, he stood up, kissed her and then pulled out her chair for her before sitting back down.

"I'm sorry if I bothered you earlier," he said.

"You didn't," she replied.

"Well, clearly I did, given your reaction." Rebecca sighed. "Despite what you might consider my…interference…I'm only concerned about your health."

"I never said you were interfering," she said, "and my health is fine. I haven't had an attack since Christmas…"

"What about the day before the groundbreaking ceremony?"

"I fainted, Preston," she said, "that's all. And even if it wasn't, that was months ago." She reached out and took his hand across the table.

He squeezed it in return, "All right, as long as you're sure."

"I _am _sure." At that moment, Grace arrived with their food and placed it before them. Rebecca lifted her fork and began moving it around. "I spoke with Dorothy this afternoon," she ventured.

"Oh yes?"

"She told me that you threatened to call in her loan because of her book."

"It's a business decision, that's all," Preston replied without lifting his head.

"It's a little unfair, don't you think?"

"No I don't," he replied. "Sales are down because of what Dorothy's up to with Cloud Dancing and with a shareholding of 49%..." Rebecca rolled her eyes. He paused. "You may scoff all you like, my dear, but business decisions have to be taken based on the current economic situation. With the markets slipping the way they are, it's important to only be investing in things that are going to succeed."

"The Gazette _is_ a successful business."

"It won't be if Dorothy continues the way she is," he said stubbornly, "and I don't intend to be part of it when it goes down. You would also do well to remember, Rebecca, that you benefit from that 49% shareholding too." Rebecca didn't reply. "I also had to remind Michaela today that her loan payment was overdue, something which I didn't enjoy, but which is necessary under the circumstances. I would hate to have to foreclose on her property if she and Sully can't maintain their repayments."

"Preston!" Rebecca let her fork drop into her plate with a clatter, "Michaela and Sully are my friends!"

"Exactly, they're _your _friends, not mine. This is business, Rebecca."

"You can't foreclose on their homestead!"

"I will if I have to."

"Well…I would ask you not to, for my sake."

"My darling, if I ran the bank based entirely on what you wanted me to do, I would never make any money." He meant it endearingly, but it only served to irritate Rebecca more.

"Well, sometimes I don't like how you run the bank." She pushed her plate away. "I've lost my appetite."

By now, Preston too was irritated. "Have you been to the farm yet?" he asked. "The first month's rent must be due by now."

"It's due on Friday as you very well know," she replied.

He shrugged non-committally, "You were the one who insisted on taking full responsibility for it. If you can't keep your tenants in check…"

"It's not a question of keeping Mr Collins and his family in check," she retorted. "It's very good of them taking the property on in the condition it's in. I have every confidence that they will be able to manage it and manage it well."

"All I'm saying is make sure that you keep on top of him when it comes to the finances. There's no point in it becoming a drain on us."

"Lord forbid it became a drain on you, Preston," she said sarcastically.

He looked at her, as though stunned by her tone. "Rebecca, I hardly think that's fair. I bought the property for you. I've let you have full control of it…"

"You _let _me have full control?"

"A poor choice of words," he conceded, "the point is, I have supported you in this venture and as someone who has considerable more business experience than you, I am merely offering you invaluable words of advice." Rebecca had switched off by this point. "Whether you choose to take them is up to you."

"Yes, well, perhaps we should refrain from discussing business," she said, "lately it seems as though we're hardly likely to agree."

"Fine," he said.

"Fine," she agreed.

There was a long moment of strained silence.

"I thought you might like to take a trip out to the house this evening," Preston said finally. "It's coming on in leaps and bounds and we should be able to move in by late September."

"All right," she replied evenly. "I'd like to see it."

After he had paid Grace, they left, took the surrey and began making their way out of town towards where their house was in the process of being built. It was a beautiful summer's evening and the smell from the flowers along the way was intoxicating.

"It really is beautiful out here," she commented.

"Indeed it is," he replied. A few moments later, they pulled up in front of the house, which was looking much more advanced than the last time Rebecca had seen it.

"It's going to be beautiful when it's finished," she said, although in her heart, she still felt it was too large for them.

"Isn't it just?" he said, helping her down. "Let's go inside."

"Is it safe?" she hesitated.

"Of course it is," he replied, taking her hand and leading her up the steps and inside.

As she stepped through the door, Rebecca was instantly struck by the size. It was even bigger inside than it looked from the outside. The entrance hallway was large with doors leading off into separate living and dining quarters. At the back of the house was the kitchen and a wooden staircase led upstairs.

"They're still putting the finishing touches to the bedrooms," he explained, "so we can't go upstairs at present." He turned to face her. "Well, what do you think?"

"It's…"she fought for the right words, "lovely."

"I knew you'd like it," he said, drawing her to the living room window. "Look at that view. Isn't it breathtaking?"

"The same one we had on our picnic on Valentine's Day."

"Exactly." He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "I think we're going to be very happy here."

Rebecca's anger began to dissipate. She loved Preston and knew that he loved her. For all the many things that irritated her, he was loving, caring and attentive towards her and she knew he would move heaven and earth to make her happy. It seemed, on occasion however, that they were both simply too stubborn for their own good. "I _do _love you, Preston," she said.

He turned her to face him, "I love you too."

"Perhaps we really _shouldn't _talk about business," she said, "it only seems to make us argue and I don't like that."

"Me neither," he said, pulling her close to him, "What's say you leave me to worry about the bank and you concentrate on the farm?"

"It's a deal," she said as he bent to kiss her.

XXXX

The main problem with the method of contraception that Michaela had recommended for her was that it had the unhappy distinction of severely killing the mood. In Rebecca's case, the moment she felt that she wanted to initiate anything, she had to scurry off to a quiet corner to put it in place before things could go any further which, generally, dampened her mood significantly. When Preston made any such overtures towards her, she invariably had to excuse herself for a few minutes before returning which made him frustrated.

"Can't you leave it in all the time?" he had demanded one evening as she had hurried away from him.

"No I can't," she had replied. "Apart from the fact that it's not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, it wouldn't be safe."

"Well what is it anyway?"

"It's a sponge soaked in vinegar," she had revealed.

"A sponge?" he had repeated, a mild look of distaste on his face.

"Yes, Michaela says that it should prevent pregnancy."

"_Should _prevent pregnancy?"

"Well nothing is guaranteed, is it?" They had made love after that conversation, though she had noticed a reticence on his part. "Preston," she had said afterwards, "try and not think about it."

"Well I just think…I mean it's not…"

She had smiled at him. "You know, there is something else that we could use. I saw them in Denver. It's a rubber sheath which the male puts…on…and…"

"Rubber sheath?" he had looked even more aghast.

"Apparently, it's the latest method of preventing pregnancy and has been widely available for some time now." Needless to say, he hadn't been willing to explore the matter further and had made no other comment about what she used.

This particular evening, when they arrived back at the bank, it was abundantly clear what Preston's intentions were. As she stood with her back to him as he unlocked the door, he pressed himself against her and gently nuzzled her neck. Once inside, he pulled her to him in the dimming light and kissed her fiercely. Rebecca, who had grown quite fond of marital relations since her wedding, responded with equal ardour and didn't resist as he unbuttoned her shawl and allowed it to fall to the floor. She prised his jacket from his shoulders and then hastily opened the buttons at the collar of his shirt, exposing the flesh of his neck which she kissed and sucked before biting.

"My, my," Preston murmured, pulling back from her, "The last few months have certainly…awakened you."

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all," he said, catching her mouth with his again, his fingers wrestling with the buttons at the back of her dress. Rebecca pulled the straps of his breeches down from his shoulders before prising open the remainder of his shirt and slipping it from his torso, allowing her to run her hands over his naked skin. The back of her dress opened and he slid it forwards, down over her shoulders, allowing her to pull her arms out, causing it to fall to her waist and expose the very expensive French lace undergarment he had ordered for her from Paris. The sight of it only served to excite him more and he pushed against her, pressing her back against the wall, feasting on the ample flesh on show.

"Preston…" she gasped, instinctively parting her thighs and waiting for him to lift her up and enter her as she desperately wanted him to do, though she knew the action would make her no better than a whore.

Instead, he pulled back and looked at her, his breathing ragged. "I would take you right here if there were not a suitable bed available." Before she could respond, he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her hastily through the bank and into the back living quarters. They fell onto the bed together and he pulled her dress down over her hips and tossed it casually onto the floor. Then, on his knees, he pulled her up so that she was sitting facing him, allowing him access to the buttons at the back of her underwear. "Too many…buttons…" he groaned, as he tried to open them quickly without tearing them. As he was doing so, Rebecca proceeded to wrap her arms around him and resume kissing and biting his throat and neck, creating delicious spasms in his lower regions.

Finally, the offending article was removed and she was naked beneath him. She pulled at the belt of his trousers, then at the buttons, pushing them down over his hips where he kicked them off. Just as he was about to slip inside her, her eyes widened. "Wait!"

"Wait?" he panted, "I don't think I can, my dear."

"No, but I haven't…" _You haven't put it in…you haven't put it in…_her mind spoke the truth, but her body spoke her desires. She knew she should make him stop, insist he stop. But his mouth…and his hands…and the way her body was responding…

Before she could think any more on it, he was inside her, pulsating hard, causing her to cry out his name so loudly she was surprised people didn't come running to see if she was all right. It was over in a matter of moments, but their passion left them both exhausted.

"If that happens every time we argue," Preston said, once he had regained his breath, "we really _should _talk about business more often." He rolled back on top of her and kissed her face and down her throat, across her chest and down to her breasts. "In fact," he lifted his head, "I think it may be about to happen again right now." She could feel him swelling against her thigh, but this time common sense wore out and she rolled away from him. "What's wrong?" he asked. He watched as she lifted her robe from the back of the chair and covered herself with it. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

She turned and saw the earnestness of his expression. "No," she said, tying the robe around her and sitting back down on the bed.

"Then what is it?" he asked, shifting closer to her. "Did I frighten you? I know I may have gotten a little carried away…"

"No," she smiled wanly, "not at all. I enjoyed it."

"Well that's a relief," he said, "then what..?"

"I wasn't protected, Preston," she said softly.

"I don't understand."

"I didn't have a chance to protect myself." She looked at him meaningfully, willing him to understand.

He did and his expression grew fearful, "Well…what does that mean?"

"It means that there's a chance I could become pregnant."

"Well, isn't there something…I mean surely you can do something…"

She sighed. "I can wash myself…"

"Well then do it!" he leapt off the bed and hastily pulled on his trousers. "I'll help you. What do you need?"

"It's all right," she said, "I don't need you to help me. I just need some warm water and a cloth…" before she had finished speaking, he had rushed from the room to the small stove that sat in the other room. She could hear him clattering around with the kettle, putting it onto boil. She sat there, waiting, contemplating, thinking. One moment of heated passion could have spoiled everything. Or created something wonderful.

A few moments later, he was back with a basin of hot water and a fresh flannel. He handed them to her and then hovered uncertainly. "Should I..?"

"You don't have to watch," she reassured him. "Just give me a few minutes." He dutifully left the room after which she douched herself thoroughly and then put on clean underwear and a clean nightdress. When she went into the other room, Preston leapt to his feet from the chair.

"Are you all right?" he demanded,

"I'm fine," she said.

"Rebecca…darling…I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have stopped when you asked me to…"

"I didn't ask you to stop," she said, "If anything, I encouraged you. The fault lies with me, Preston, not you."

"No," he said forcefully, "it's my responsibility to ensure that no harm comes to you and that includes making sure that you don't fall pregnant. It's my fault." He stepped into her open arms and held her. "I'm so sorry." She didn't say anything. "How soon will you know if…?"

"As soon as I get my monthly bleed," she said, "or not, as the case may be." She pulled back and looked at him. "I'm fairly regular, so it should be easy to tell."

He nodded, but she could tell he was still concerned. They went to bed after that, and he held her as he always did, but she knew that he didn't sleep that night, for neither did she.

**Two weeks later**

Preston was already sat at his desk, having risen early that morning with the intention of doing some paperwork before the bank opened. He was halfway through checking the loan figures Myra had prepared for him the day before when the door to the back room opened and Rebecca came out.

"You should have wakened me," she said by way of greeting.

"You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't like to," he replied. "Besides, what with Loren back on his feet I thought it might be all right for you to go in to work a little late today." She looked at the floor. "What is it?"

"I've taken my monthly," she said.

Relief flooded his body, "Thank God!" he declared, getting to his feet. He made to hug her, but stopped at her expression. "You don't seem particularly happy."

"No, I am," she said, as earnestly as possible, for how could she tell him that a small part of her had hoped that she _was _in fact pregnant, "it's just…"

"All the worry, I completely understand," he said, drawing her into his arms, "Well, it's over now, thank goodness, and we can get back to normal."

"Normal," she echoed.

"Exactly," he pulled back and looked at her, "Now we know that it's safe we can resume…relations. Although perhaps I should take more of an active role in things."

"In what sense?"

"In the sense of making sure that you're adequately protected. I know I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of the…device…that you mentioned before but…well…after this scare, I think it's only fair that I…reconsider my opinion and agree to give it a try."

"You do?"

"Yes I do," he pulled her to him again. "I want to be satisfied that this sort of thing will never, _never_ happen again."

**Next chapter: Preston runs for Mayor!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Here's the next exciting chapter! I've used some of the dialogue from the episode Right or Wrong which obviously does not belong to me so thanks to the writers for their wonderful words which I have woven into my story. I hope you'll enjoy it and please leave a review :)**

**November 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

"Afternoon Mrs Lodge."

Rebecca turned from where she was sweeping the floor of the store to see Ray Collins standing in front of her, touching his hat. A man in his late thirties, he had a pleasant face and a charming manner.

"Afternoon Mr Collins," she greeted him in response. "How are things at the farm today?"

"Just fine, ma'am, just fine," he reassured her, "fact is, I'm getting ready to take that cattle to market at the end of the week."

"That's wonderful," she said, "I really am very grateful to you and your family for everything. It's been a weight off my mind knowing that the farm's in such good hands."

"Hell, we're grateful to you," he replied, "if you ain't given me the job, Lord knows where we'd be by now."

Rebecca nodded sympathetically, remembering the story he had told her about how he and his family had lost their farm in the summer floods in Iowa. "What can I do for you?"

"Just need some flour, that's all," he replied. "It's my little girl's birthday tomorrow and my wife wants to make her a cake."

"That sounds lovely," she passed him a bag and he paid for it.

"Good to see you again, Mrs Lodge," he touched his hat again before leaving.

"Goodbye," she replied, lifting her broom again and resuming her sweeping.

"Hey Rebecca!" Brian came barrelling into the store, his reporter's notepad around his neck, his eyes flushed with excitement. The air was cool and crisp with the first snap of winter and his cheeks were rosy red from the cold.

Rebecca stopped and smiled at him, "Afternoon Brian, how are you?"

"Fine," he replied, "Miss Dorothy told me to come here and get your reaction to the news." He took his pencil out of the pad and opened it at a blank page.

"Did she now?" Rebecca smiled indulgently, "And what news might that be?"

"That Mr Lodge is running for mayor."

Rebecca's smile dropped, "He's doing what?"

"Running for mayor," Brian said, obliviously, his pencil poised over the paper, "he announced it just now at the train station. Made a big speech about what he was going to do for the town _and _gave the town $100 cheque. Made Jake real mad. Didn't you know about it?"

"No I didn't," Rebecca replied, fighting to keep her temper under control. How could he have kept this from her? After all the arguments and discussions they had had in the last six months of marriage, how could he think it was all right to keep such a secret?

"So…what can I say your reaction was?" Brian asked, drawing her back to reality.

"Oh…uh…" she was sorely tempted to drop Preston in it and say that she had never heard of anything so ridiculous in her entire life, but love and loyalty won out. "I'm excited at the prospect and look forward to seeing how the campaign goes."

Brian scribbled down her words, "Great! Thank Rebecca!" With that, he was gone again, leaving Rebecca free to fume. Loren commented on her bad mood and enquired as to whether or not it had anything to do with Preston's announcement. She responded by telling him she wasn't in a mood and that, even if she was, it had nothing to do with that. She could tell that the older man didn't believe her, especially when she excused herself at lunchtime so as to try and find Preston.

When she got to the bank, only Myra was inside and she said she hadn't seen Preston for hours. Rebecca's next stop was the café, where she found that everyone was talking about what had happened and the upcoming election.

"I never would have thought Preston would want to run for Mayor," Michaela said, when Rebecca asked her if she had seen him.

"Neither would I," she replied.

"You mean you didn't know?" Michaela asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"No," Rebecca said, "I didn't." By the time she had to get back to the store, she still hadn't found Preston and her mood only decreased as the day wore on. By closing time, she was so angry she could feel a headache starting right above her left eye.

"You go on home," Loren told her, "talk to that husband of yours."

She was in no mood to argue with him so, recovering her horse from Robert E, she rode homewards out of town. When she reached it, there was no sign of Thunder and therefore she knew that Preston wasn't there. Exasperated that he wasn't there for her to take her anger out on, she began furiously cooking dinner, banging pots and pans and thumping things around the kitchen, wishing with all her heart he was there so that she could give him a piece of her mind.

An hour later, she heard the sound of horses' hooves approaching and steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation. The door opened and Preston hurried inside, hanging his jacket and hat on the peg. Rebecca, standing in the kitchen, said nothing. He hurried over and dropped a kiss on the back of her neck, "Sorry I'm late, darling."

"Where have you been all day?" she asked tightly, "I was looking for you everywhere."

"So much to do, so much to organise!" Preston declared, moving over to the fire and warming his hands. "I've spent most of the day speaking to people in town, not to mention trying to ensure that Grace and Andrew are on board as hotel employees. Running for mayor is a serious business."

"I'm aware of that," she said, slamming the lid back on the pot, "It might have been nice if you had spoken to me about it."

"The idea really only came to me a few days ago," he explained, "You should have seen the look on Jake's face this afternoon when I announced it. He wasn't expecting to have any competition."

"And you couldn't have discussed it with me before making your _grand announcement_?" she asked, proceeding to lay the table.

"I didn't think you would be overly interested."

"Interested?!" she exclaimed, looking over at him, "You didn't think I would be interested in something that affects me?"

"It's not going to affect you," he replied, "not really. I'm the one running for mayor."

"Yes and I'm the one expected to back you, no doubt."

"Of course I'll be counting on your support…"

"Then it would have been good if you had discussed it with me." She turned back and began plating the food, wishing she could stab him with the kitchen knife.

Preston frowned and stepped back over to the table, "I really don't see what you're getting so upset about. Wouldn't you like it if I became mayor? You'd be the mayor's wife, a prestigious position in town."

"I don't want a prestigious position in town, Preston," she replied, slamming the plates onto the table, "It's more the fact that you didn't feel the need to consult me about something this important."

"I'm sorry," he said, though she knew he was only saying it to placate her, "I should have talked it through with you. But I think this is something I have a real shot at winning."

"Why do you need anything else?" she asked, sitting down, "You already have the bank and the hotel is due to open at Thanksgiving. Why do this too?"

"Because Jake Slicker is not taking this town in the direction it should be taken." He sat down opposite her. "There are things that I can do for Colorado Springs that he can't."

"Such as?"

"Such as bringing new business to the town. And there's no doubt that I can support the town better financially."

"That's not what being mayor is about," she said.

Preston paused, "Whose side are you on?"

Rebecca sighed and met his gaze, "Preston, it's not that I wouldn't support you if you were mayor, but…you need to do this for the right reasons. Not simply to get one over on Jake."

"That's _not _why I'm doing this," he replied, "Rebecca this is a golden opportunity for me. For us. A little enthusiasm wouldn't hurt."

"Enthusiasm?" she echoed, "I have done nothing but be enthusiastic about all your ventures! I supported you starting your own bank. I've been by your side every step of the way with the hotel. How _dare _you accuse me of lack of enthusiasm!"

"Then what would you call it?" he challenged her.

"I'd call it the reaction of a wife kept in the dark by her husband about something which is clearly important and potentially life-changing for both of them!"

He set his jaw tightly, "Well I can see you're not in a position to discuss this rationally. It's the beginning of the month. I should have known that you would be ill-tempered. It's the same this time every month."

Rebecca was so stunned that she couldn't respond. They undertook their meal in silence, the waves of resentment almost choking the atmosphere. When they had finished, Rebecca whipped the plates away and cleared up the kitchen while Preston sat at the table writing notes on something which she couldn't care less about. Finally, when she was finished, she swept upstairs and into bed.

Later that night, she pretended to be asleep when Preston came to bed. She heard him undressing and then felt him climb in beside her. He shifted his body close to her, pressed against her back, his hand moving over her hip to rest on her stomach and draw small circles with his fingers.

"Rebecca?" he whispered, "Are you awake?" She refused to reply. "Rebecca?" he tried again. Again, she remained silent. Eventually, with a sigh, he rolled away from her, blew out the lamp and lay with his back to her.

She tried to will herself to sleep, but couldn't. Their argument churned over and over in her mind. She came at it from all different angles. Yes, he hadn't told her about running for mayor and yes, that annoyed her. But he was her husband at the end of the day and needed her support. Wryly she remembered Louisa's words of advice on her wedding day. Never go to bed on an argument.

She rolled over onto her side so that she was facing his back and shuffled herself closer to him. "Preston?" He was either asleep or ignoring her. Gently, she ran her hand across his back and round to his chest, puling herself against him. He started and half turned.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes sleepy.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't want to fight with you. Not about this." He rolled over to face her. "I can't say I'm not angry that you didn't tell me but…what's the use in us not being united?"

He smiled at her, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have, I realise that now. But I need you, Rebecca. I need you to support me in this. It's important."

She cupped his face in her hands, "I do and I will."

"Jake and I are holding a debate tomorrow afternoon."

"I know," she said, "the town was talking about little else all day."

"You will be there, won't you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "I'll be there."

He made love to her then, slowly and deliberately and afterwards, she lay in his arms and wondered, not for the first time, if he was doing all of this because she couldn't give him a child.

XXXX

Rebecca was making her way to the church the following day for the debate when she bumped into Matthew going the same way.

"You going to the debate?" he asked her.

"Of course," she replied.

"You can't be happy about this?" he said.

"Why not?" she asked, "It's what Preston wants to do and I support him in that."

"That ain't the same thing."

"What would you like me to say, Matthew?" she said, irritated. "Are you expecting me to say that it's a terrible idea and I wish Preston hadn't decided to do it?"

"Is that what you really think?" he asked her.

Rebecca didn't reply, aware of the trap she had potentially fallen into. Fortunately, she was rescued by Preston who, catching sight of her, hurried down the steps to greet her. "Rebecca," he kissed her on the cheek. "Matthew, I'm glad to see you decided to come this afternoon. Remember, a vote for Preston is a vote for you." Matthew shot Rebecca a look before moving past them, leaving them alone together. "I think it should be an interesting debate," he said to her. "Though I fail to see how Jake thinks he's going to present himself better than I will." Though she knew he wasn't talking about clothing, Rebecca looked him up and down. He was wearing the burgundy suit, the one she liked the best. "I wore it for you," he said, reading her mind.

"Well, I'm very glad that you did," she replied, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder.

"Dorothy!" he called out, catching sight of her, "glad to see the Gazette is providing ample reportage of this event."

"Now don't you try to influence Brian's report, Preston," Dorothy warned, sharing a glance with Rebecca.

"Oh I assure you I absolutely do not want any perception of favouritism. I assume the Gazette will _not _be endorsing a candidate?"

"That's correct."

"Of course," Preston said, "it is very difficult for a writer to keep her personal feelings from creeping in."

"Preston…" Rebecca said warningly.

"Sometimes so subtly," he continued, ignoring her, "the reader isn't even aware of it."

"I will write an _objective_ report," Dorothy said, preparing to move past them. "Rebecca, that's a very pretty dress."

"Oh," Rebecca looked down, impressed by the other woman's swift change of subject, "Thank you Dorothy." Once she had gone, she turned back to her husband. "Preston…"

"I _do _own 49% of that publication," he reminded her, "is it too much to ask that she lean a little…?"

"Yes it is," she replied firmly, "you want to win this election fairly."

He cocked his head on one side and looked at her thoughtfully, "What would I do without your good sense?"

She linked her arm through his, "Be all the poorer."

He smiled, then catching sight of Grace up ahead, pulled himself free from her, "Give me a moment, my dear, I've something I must give to Grace."

XXXX

"Now, in two years time will Jake have the streets paved? Will he bring business and prosperity to our town?" Preston leaned over his podium as he spoke and shook his head.

"We've been doing just fine," Jake countered.

"That's right," Loren, who was sat next to Rebecca, murmured. The older man turned to look at her. "Even _you _gotta admit that, Rebecca."

She didn't have a chance to reply. "Just fine means you're satisfied with the way things are. Not striving to improve the lives of the people of this town," Preston replied. "Now you know when I say something is going to get done, you know it's going to get done." Various people around the room applauded.

"Perhaps we should discuss the town's concerns instead of attacking each other," Michaela spoke up from her seat across from Rebecca.

"That's exactly what I've been thinking," Jake agreed, "seems he keeps telling us what we _should_ do instead of asking you what _you _think needs to get done." This generated more applause.

"I get more and more strangers leaving my café without paying their bill now what you gonna do about that?" Grace demanded from the front row.

"With growth and prosperity comes more crime," Jake said, "and as Mayor, I'll make sure our Sheriff has plenty Deputies to help him fight it. Keep the streets safe, which is a lot more important than paving them."

Rebecca glanced over and saw Matthew nodding and clapping. She had to agree that it was an important issue. Looking up, she caught Preston's eye and smiled encouragingly at him.

"That's right Jake!" Hank called from the back.

"There you go again, Jake," Preston smiled, "its odd, isn't it, that a man who once tried to _lynch_ Robert E should be so concerned about law and order."

Jake leaned over, his expression stunned. "That was a long time ago."

"Just like your drinking was a long time ago," Preston shot back before looking back at Rebecca who wasn't quite sure where to look.

"Let's stick to the issues, Mr Lodge," Michaela interrupted.

"Character _is _an issue," he insisted. "It's the most important issue. I suppose Jake could try to come back at me, talk about how I chopped down the Kissing Tree…"

"Make sure you put that in," Loren said to Dorothy who was sat on his other side scribbling away.

"…but you know what? That was a mistake and I learned from it and I don't see how Jake has learned from any of _his _mistakes."

"What are you talking about?" Jake demanded.

"Character denigration is _not _an issue," Michaela said.

Horace rose to his feet. "They're both the same! They only want to make out for themselves! Don't matter who you vote for." He turned to leave, but Michaela grabbed his arm.

"Yes," she said, "yes it does matter."

"Who are you going to vote for, Doctor Mike?" Horace asked.

"Well, everyone has to make up their own mind."

"Well what do _you_ think?" Preston asked, his tone defensive.

The collective audience held their breaths, Rebecca included. She had the terrible feeling that Michaela was not going to give the answer Preston wanted.

"Well, I have to say that I've come to believe that Jake really does care about the people of this town. And you have to consider that Jake hasn't used his office to profit personally…" she left the inference hanging and Rebecca felt pity for her husband. "I think that Jake's presentation here tonight proves that he is the candidate who is more concerned with discovering your needs than dictating them." She sat down and the room erupted into applause with a rousing cry of _Jake, Jake, Jake…_

Jake smiled wanly while Preston looked exceedingly hacked off.

"Trust Michaela to wade in with her _opinion,_" he declared later as they were making for home.

"I suppose she's entitled to it like everybody else," Rebecca replied.

"She knows the influence she has in this town. But to endorse Jake of all people…"

"It was one debate, Preston," she tried to reassure him, "and Michaela's opinion is only one of many. I'm sure that there are plenty of people in town who'll be happy to endorse you."

"Yes well…" he said as she linked her arm with his, "If Jake thinks he has won this race then he is very, _very _mistaken."


	32. Chapter 32

**I always seem to be apologising whenever I update this story because it's always been so long! So - as usual - sorry for the delay. Thanks for those who are still reading and reviewing. Bear with me, we will get there!! There is also some dialogue in this chapter from the episode The Tempest. I don't own any of that. I have manipulated events in that episode slightly to suit my own ends! Please read and review.**

**November 1871**

**Colorado Springs**

Rebecca could feel Preston's disappointment coming off of him in waves. It was the evening after the results of the mayoral race had been announced and Jake had emerged victorious. Preston had put a fairly good face on it all and had even congratulated Jake in public, but Rebecca knew her husband better than she would ever have thought possible and she could tell he was upset.

Dinner had been a quiet affair. Preston hadn't said much and Rebecca hadn't known which side to take. Should she tell him it didn't matter and that he was bound for better things, or should she say it was a travesty of justice and he would have made a far better mayor than Jake ever could? In the end, she chose neither and did the best she could to make banal conversation about other things. But it was difficult, when all anyone had been talking about for weeks was the contest.

Preston pushed his half-eaten plate of food away from him. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not very hungry this evening."

"That's all right," Rebecca replied. She watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a crumpled telegram. "What's that?"

"It's from my father," he replied, "simply reminding me that he'll be here two days before Thanksgiving." Rebecca didn't say anything. "I will expect you to welcome him."

She paused, fork halfway to mouth and stared at him, "Excuse me?"

"Well…" he looked away, "you know what I mean."

"I have never been anything other than cordial and polite to your family, Preston, all of them. I find it insulting that you would think…"

"Yes, yes, yes," he waved his hand dismissively at her and rose from the table. "I don't really want to get into a discussion about it. I've said what I wanted to say."

Rebecca bit her tongue and held back the vitriol that she felt like throwing at him. For all the support she had given him over the last few weeks she thought it extremely bad form that he should turn around now and practically accuse her of…thinking about it only made her angrier, so she herself rose from the table and carried the plates over to the sink. Angrily, she began washing them up, not caring about the noise she was making.

"Rebecca, could you please do that more quietly?" She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was sitting in the chair next to the fire, his back to her. Again, she bit her tongue and resumed what she was doing with little improvement on the noise level. "Rebecca!"

"If you don't like it, Preston, you can come and do it yourself," she replied tightly. He appeared suddenly beside her, drying the dishes she had washed and putting them away in the cupboard. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw the tightness of his jaw. "I know you're upset about the result…" she began.

"I can hardly help it if the people of this town can't see a good thing when it's staring them in the face," he interrupted her.

"There's no shame in losing."

"Of course not," he sneered, "none at all."

"Preston…"

"Father will be disappointed." He began drying one particular dinner plate with careful precision. "I wrote to him about the contest. He wired back to say that he hoped I would be successful."

Rebecca put down the cloth she was holding. "Is that what this is all about? Impressing your father?"

"No," he replied, refusing to meet her gaze.

"If your father is any father at all, he will merely commiserate with you and then move on."

"Of course, you would think that."

"You live hundreds of miles away from him, Preston. He has already caused you so much unhappiness in life, darling, please don't let him hurt you in your own home."

Preston looked at her, and seconds later she was crushed to him. "You're right. Of course you're right," he said, his voice muffled against the top of her head. "What would I do without my sweet, wonderful, rational Rebecca?"

Rebecca pulled back and looked up at him, "Whatever you pleased, my love. With no wife to burden you."

"As if you could ever be a burden," he kissed her gently. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. You've been nothing but supportive to me and I should remember that."

"I forgive you," she replied indulgently. "And I promise to be nothing but supportive when your father comes to stay."

Preston's smile faded slightly. "Yes."

"Preston, if you've changed your mind…if you don't want him here for Thanksgiving we can wire Boston and tell them it's not convenient." He looked at her. "You can say that I'm ill and can't receive visitors. Your parents won't question that."

"No," he said decisively, "I'm not afraid of my father, Rebecca. I want him to see our town. I want him to see what differences I've made here. What I've achieved. What _we've _achieved. No, he will come as planned. It will only be for a few days. I'm sure we can bear his company that long."

Rebecca pressed her face against his chest, "Yes, my love, I'm sure we can."

XXXX

The days leading to the arrival of Preston's father seemed to fly past faster than Rebecca would have believed. She had prepared the spare room for him to the best of her abilities after Preston had decreed that his father would not be staying at the Spring Chateau after all. "I think he would be more comfortable with us," he told her, though she knew that it was really secret code for "I don't want him snooping around when I'm not there."

Preston's nerves were contagious and though she tried to fight it, as the day approached, Rebecca found herself becoming more and more anxious to the point where she had a small attack while brushing the front steps. She was alone at the time and a dose of digitalis calmed her, but she couldn't help berating herself for allowing a man like Preston's father to cause her ill health. The night before he was due to arrive Preston didn't come home until late. Rebecca tossed and turned, waiting for the sound of his horse returning. Sometime after midnight, she heard him and, throwing on her dressing gown, hurried downstairs to greet him.

"I'm sorry," he said, catching sight of her coming down the stairs. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was awake anyway," she replied, taking his coat from him and hanging it up. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," he replied. "I just wanted to make sure everything was looking all right at the hotel."

"And is it?"

"Yes, yes, it's all fine."

"I'll get you some tea," she moved into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate earlier." Preston sat down at the table. "How about you? Did your day go well?"

"Yes," she replied, bringing over two cups. "I came by the bank at lunchtime but you weren't there."

"I've been at the hotel most of the day. There was simply so much to do." He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "I'm sorry if I've neglected you recently."

She paused, thinking of all the nights recently when she had reached for him and he had made an excuse. "You haven't," she replied. "But you need your sleep. Your father's coming in on the early train."

"I know," he sighed heavily. "You should go up to bed."

"Are you coming with me?"

"In a minute. Please, you go on up."

"All right." She rose from the table and kissed him gently. "Don't be too long." She climbed the stairs back to the bedroom and waited, but it was a good hour before he joined her. He burrowed himself close to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. She felt his love, his warmth and she also felt his uncertainty.

XXXX

The following morning dawned bright and fair and the town was bustling. Rebecca had stopped off at the clinic to pick up some more digitalis before accompanying Preston to the station. When she came out of the clinic, she saw that he was talking to Andrew. Hurrying over, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

"So tell Michaela you're leaving," Preston was saying.

"Preston…" Andrew hissed, "What, now?"

"Tell Michaela you're leaving what?" she asked, joining them.

"Nothing," Andrew said quickly, touching his hat to her. "I hope you're well, Rebecca."

"I'm fine Andrew, thank you," she replied, watching him hurry away. "What was that all about?"

"Just a little bit of business." Preston replied. He sighed when he saw her expression, "I've asked Andrew to take over running the clinic at the hotel and he seems rather reluctant to untie the apron strings."

"I see," Rebecca linked arms with him, "Does Michaela know about this?"

"Not unless Andrew decides to tell her. I wish he'd hurry up so that I could at least tell Doctor Cassidy that the position has been filled."

"Doctor Cassidy?" Rebecca made a face. "Lord preserve us."

Preston smiled indulgently at her, "You're not a fan?"

"That's putting it mildly."

By this time, they were at the station and Preston checked his watch. "The train should be here any moment."

Rebecca felt her heart start to beat faster and then chastised herself. She refused to allow this man to make her nervous in her own home. At that moment, Sully and Michaela appeared, the latter looking upset. "Michaela?"

Her friend turned to look at her, "Colleen's not going to make it home today," she explained. "She's got too much work to do."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rebecca replied sincerely, "I'm sure she'll be home in time for Thanksgiving."

"I hope so," Michaela said.

At that moment, the train appeared from around the corner and with a whistle and a large blast of smoke, it slowly pulled into the station. Preston gripped Rebecca's arm tighter and she squeezed him back in response. A sign of solidarity. The train came to a halt and the passengers began to disembark.

Preston caught sight of his father at the door of the carriage. "There he is. Father!"

Preston Senior smiled and stepped down to greet him, "Well now. You haven't changed."

"It's been six months since the wedding, sir, I may still surprise you. I trust Mother's well."

"She and your brothers send their regards."

"And your journey was pleasant?"

"Tumultuous. There are terrible storms across the plains."

"Well you're here safely and I'm…honoured that you made such a long trip," Preston said.

"I made good use of the time and secured some new business along the way."

_I'm sure you did,_ Rebecca thought to herself. _Far be it for you to come here solely to see your son._

As if reading her thoughts, Preston turned to her and, putting his hand on her back, ushered her forwards. "Father, you remember Rebecca."

Despite everything, Rebecca put on her best smile and held out her hand, "It's good to see you again, Mr Lodge."

He appeared slightly taken aback, but took her hand in his and shook it, "And you." He regarded her up and down. "Well Preston, she's much lovelier than I remembered.""Indeed she is, sir," Preston replied, seemingly pleased at the compliment.

"I trust you're looking after my son," Preston Senior regarded her carefully.

"I'm doing the best I can," Rebecca replied, coolly meeting his gaze.

"Good. What more can a man ask for than a loving and devoted wife." He glanced around. "So, this is Colorado Springs."

"Only one part of it," Preston jumped in. "There's lots for you to see, Father. I thought we'd start in town and then we can take you out to the hotel…"

"Preston," Rebecca broke in. "Your father's probably tired from the journey. Perhaps we should start with some coffee at Grace's and then you can give him the grand tour."

"Of course," Preston said, smiling gratefully at her. "Father, if you'd like to come this way." The three of them made their way out of the station and onto the main street where Preston Senior instantly commented on the lack of paved streets. Rebecca rolled her eyes and concentrated on looking welcoming.

"This is the first thing to show you, Father," Preston said, stopping in front of the bank.

"Ah yes," Preston Senior said, casting his gaze upon the building. "Good thinking, son. You were right to start small."

Preston turned back to face his father, the smile on his face slipping slightly. "Small?"

"A larger bank might have intimidated these frontier people." His father smiled, encouraging him to share in the sentiment.

"Of course," Preston replied.

Rebecca felt herself grow angry and suddenly desperate to get them into Grace's. "Shall we?" she said, gesturing ahead. The three of them walked in silence until they reached the café, whereupon Grace quickly found them a table and they ordered coffee. "So," she said, once they were settled, "What news is there from Boston? I wrote to Louisa several weeks ago but I haven't had a reply from her."

Preston Senior's expression became melancholic. "I'm afraid I _am _the bearer of some bad news."

"Oh?" Preston asked.

"Louisa's time came earlier than expected. She had a daughter who only lived for a few minutes. It was all very sad."

Rebecca sat staring at him, stunned at the clinical way he had just announced the death of Louisa and James' child. "When was this?" she demanded.

"Three weeks ago."

"So why are we only hearing about it now?"

"Rebecca…" Preston chastised her gently. "How are they, Father?"

"Devastated as one might expect," Preston Senior replied, "but bearing up well."

"That's _terrible _news," Rebecca said, emotion clogging her throat, "I must wire Louisa. I must…tell her how sorry we are…" She put her cutlery down and took a drink of water. All the jealousy she had felt at hearing the news of Louisa's pregnancy now paled into guilt. The woman she believed had everything had just lost the most precious thing of all.

"Yes well…" Preston Senior said, clearly eager to move on and change the subject. "Your town is rather charming, Preston."

"Thank you, sir," he replied quietly.

"And you seem to have a fair stake in it."

"Well, sir, what with the bank and the hotel…"

"Yes, I look forward to seeing the hotel. You've certainly said great things in your letters home."

"I only hope you won't be disappointed, Father," Preston said, which only made Rebecca feel angry again.

"Well it's as I said," Preston Senior said, drinking his coffee, "It doesn't do to intimidate people."

"I don't believe they would be intimidated, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said, finding her voice again. "But there would be little point in building banks and hotels that dwarfed the town now, would there?"

Preston Senior looked at her, "I suppose not." He turned back to Preston. "When you become Mayor, of course, you will be able to do more things in the town."

Preston glanced at Rebecca. "Well sir…you see…the contest is over."

"And?"

"And…Mayor Slicker was re-elected."

"I see," Preston Senior put down his napkin. "That's unfortunate. I was under the misapprehension that he was a drunk and a barber."

"No, no, he is…was…those things," Preston said quickly. "But…"

"Jake's lived here for many years," Rebecca butted in. "The townsfolk know him, warts and all." She smiled. "It doesn't mean that Preston can't be successful in the future."

"Indeed. But Preston, you really must try harder if you expect to make any impression whatsoever in Colorado Springs."

Rebecca opened her mouth, ready to leap to her husband's defence, but Preston silenced her with a look. "Of course, sir."

Feeling sick, not only with her father-in-law's attitude but also to the news of Louisa and James' tragedy, Rebecca got to her feet. "Well, I'm sure that you would both like some time alone," she said. "I promised to meet Dorothy this morning." It was a lie, but one she managed to pull off perfectly.

"Aren't you coming out to the hotel with us?" Preston asked, getting to his feet also.

"No, I'd probably only get in the way," she laughed, "I'll see you later on this afternoon."

"All right, if you must," Preston said. "Tell Dorothy that I'll be along later. I want to introduce my father to her and give her the instructions for interviewing my investors at the opening ceremony."

"I will," Rebecca replied. "Mr Lodge." Preston's father touched his hat, but didn't rise from his seat. As she passed her husband, Rebecca reached over and kissed him on the cheek, squeezing his hand in the process. Then she left the café as quickly as possible.

XXXX

"Oh, the man is insufferable!" she raged to Dorothy. "He's the most…the most…" she was lost for words to describe him.

Dorothy laughed as she worked the printing press. "You can't choose your family."

"He's not my family, not really. I'd give them all up for it to be just Preston and I. Except for Louisa and James, that is."

"It really is terrible news," Dorothy commiserated with her.

"I feel so stupid. I should have known something was wrong when she didn't reply to my letters." Rebecca sat down on a vacant seat. "Now I don't know _what _to say to them."

"All you can do is send your condolences."

"I suppose," Rebecca chewed on her lower lip. "But first I have to get through the next few days."

At that moment, Preston and his father came into the Gazette and Rebecca could instantly see that something was bothering her husband.

"Rebecca," he greeted her.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied tightly.

"Preston has just shown me the hotel," Preston Senior said, "Very impressive."

"He's worked hard," she said.

"I told him, of course, that more storeys would be needed in time."

Rebecca frowned, "More storeys?"

"Father, I'd like you to meet our town's pre-eminent journalist, Miss Dorothy Jennings," Preston interrupted.

"How nice that you could spend the holiday with your son," Dorothy said.

"Oh Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving happens every year," Preston Senior said. "But Preston's hotel opening. That's a momentous occasion." He clapped Preston on the back.

"I want you there at two on Thursday," Preston said to Dorothy, "That way you can interview my hotel's investors before the opening ceremony."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly be there before four," Dorothy replied, "I'm doing research for my book and I've scheduled an interview for Thursday for most of the afternoon."

"Well you'll have to reschedule," Preston said tightly.

"Preston!" Rebecca exclaimed.

"Pardon?" Dorothy said.

"My story is big news for this town," Preston continued, "If you want to be taken seriously as a professional journalist…"

"I _am _a professional journalist," Dorothy said waspishly.

"Then give my story the attention it deserves."

"Preston, I'm sure that Dorothy…" Rebecca began, but he cut her off with a look.

"Your story will get the proper treatment, Preston," Dorothy said, "starting at four." She stared coolly at him, forcing Preston and his father to withdraw.

Rebecca turned to Dorothy, "I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's fine," Dorothy replied, "You can't help what your husband says or does." She turned back to her press, indicating the conversation was over.

Rebecca followed them outside.

"That Gazette is your newspaper, Preston, and that woman in there, she works for _you._"

"Well, not exactly…" Preston replied. "You see I co-own the newspaper with Miss Jennings."

"_Co-own?_" Preston Senior exclaimed in astonishment, "You gave _her_ fifty per cent?"

"Actually…" Preston looked as though he wished the ground would open up and swallow him. "Dorothy owns 51 per cent."

His father snorted before turning away. "No wonder she didn't listen to you."

Preston made to follow him, but Rebecca put her hand on his arm, "Preston…"

"Not now," he said, gently shaking her off and following his father.

Rebecca followed at a safe distance, her mind going over and over everything that had happened in the few short hours since Preston's father had arrived. She was so angry that she wanted to march up to him and slap him in the face for all the things he had said. She followed them until they were almost back at the bank when Horace's surrey came flying past her, Horace a few paces behind yelling at the driver to stop.

"Thief! Horace shouted, "Stop him!" Someone ran out and grabbed the horse's reins, bringing the surrey to a halt. "He stole my surrey!" Horace panted, catching up.

"That man didn't steal anything," Preston declared. "He works for me. He took that surrey legitimately on the bank's behalf."

"But it's mine!" Horace protested.

"That surrey belongs to the bank, Horace. You're six weeks late on your loan payment," Preston said looking at his father, "That surrey has been repossessed."

"Repossessed?" Horace exclaimed. "But I only got two more payments. I was short last month cause I had to send money to Myra for Samantha."

Rebecca took his arm, "Preston I'm sure that…"

"Two more payments, Mr Lodge?" Michaela interrupted. "Surely you can give Horace an extension?"

Horace looked hopefully at Preston as the rest of the townsfolk held their breath waiting for a response. Rebecca moved closer to her husband, "Preston…"

"No," he said, before she could finish, "No exceptions, no extensions."

Horace's face fell. "Go ahead then. Take it." With that, he stormed back towards the station.

Rebecca turned to her husband but he merely looked at her and then looked at his father. Preston Senior nodded imperceptibly and Rebecca felt sick. The approval Preston craved had come at the expense of someone else. As she watched, Preston's father put his hand on his son's shoulder and they made their way back towards the bank, a slight swagger to Preston's step.

XXXX

She wasn't sure if it was because she had had to endure her husband being belittled at every available opportunity or the fact that she was angry at what had happened with Horace, or simply raging hormones, but when Preston came into the bedroom later that night, Rebecca felt red hot desire burn through her. She wanted him. Wanted to make sure that he was still hers. Still the Preston she loved and not the man his father wanted him to be.

"He seems comfortable enough," he said, closing the door behind him and moving over to the bed. "It's not Boston of course…"

"I'm sure it's fine," Rebecca said, pulling herself up onto her knees.

"I just hope that everything goes well tomorrow," he continued thoughtfully, beginning to unbutton his shirt, "I'm sure that everything's covered…"

"Everything's covered," she reassured him, aiding him in his quest to undress. Allowing his shirt to fall from his back, she leant forward and kissed his chest, biting down gently on the flesh.

"I can't remember if I asked Wendall to make sure the windows were all washed again in the morning," Preston said suddenly, oblivious to her actions. "They need to be sparkling."

"Preston," Rebecca lifted her head and levelled his gaze, "Don't think about it," she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, "think about me."

"I can hardly avoid thinking about you," he replied with a smile.

"Well, don't think about what the hotel needs," she said, "think about what I need."

"And what do you need?"

She smiled suggestively, "You." Leaning forward, she kissed him again. "Making love to me like a good husband should." He responded for a moment before pushing her away.

"I don't think it's entirely appropriate, Rebecca," and she could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

"What's not appropriate?" she asked, confused.

"Well, you and I…" he looked at her meaningfully, "with my father in the next room…"

Rebecca laughed, "Preston, this is _our_ house, _our _bedroom, _our _bed. I don't think we should be worried about your father."

"Yes but…what if he were to hear?" He looked anxiously at her.

"He knows we're married," she replied. "Surely he can expect little else."

"No," he said, purposefully moving away from her, "It's not that I don't want to because you know I do, but I can't. It doesn't seem right somehow. He's my father."

Sexually frustrated and angry in any event, Rebecca's temper broke. "Fine. Well, I'm not coming tomorrow."

Preston paused from where he had been continuing to undress across the other side of the room and looked at her, "What? What do you mean you're not coming? You have to be there! It's the grand opening!"

"You don't need me there, Preston."

"You're my wife! Of course I need you there!"

"To serve what purpose exactly?" He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued talking, "Besides, seeing as you brought him up, I'll be honest and tell you that I'm not sure I can bear to spend another minute in your father's company."

"And why not?"

"Because ever since he arrived in town he has done his best to put you down and undermine your achievements," she said. Preston cast his eyes downwards. "The bank is too small, the hotel not substantial enough, you didn't become Mayor, you gave Dorothy 51% of the Gazette…" she trailed off, "and every time he makes such a comment you just stand there and…and take it! And it hurts me to see it. And I want to say something but I know that any comment from me would not be welcomed by either of you." She shook her head, "And…quite frankly…I don't like the person you become in his company."

His head snapped up. "I don't understand."

"That business today with Horace and the surrey. You could have given him an extension and you probably would have if your father hadn't been there. But instead, you looked to him and did what you knew he would have done in your position. I felt so…" she didn't want to use the word but it was the only one that fit, "ashamed." Immediately she regretted it, as a look of abject hurt crossed his face.

"Well…" he said, his voice tight, "I didn't think that…I mean, I suppose that…" he trailed off.

"Darling, I don't want to hurt you," Rebecca climbed out of the bed and hurried over to him. "I know you only want him to be proud but…we have to live here long after your father goes back to Boston and…what happened with Horace wasn't right." She stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm, "And deep down, I think you recognise that yourself. Please don't change the person you are, the person I love, because your father is here."

Preston sank down on the chair at the dressing table and ran his hand through his hair. "Rebecca," he began slowly, "you don't know what it's like to be my father's son. It has never been easy to please him and after doing what I did…"

"You mean marrying me."

"I wanted him to come here and be proud of me. To see that I could do all of this on my own."

"Preston, you're a grown man," she said. "You don't need your father's approval, surely?"

He looked up at her, his eyes huge. "It's all I've ever wanted from him."

"Oh my love…" she perched on his lap and showered his face with kisses, her heart aching for the little boy inside him, the little boy constantly seeking love and approval. "My darling, I'm sure your father is proud of you. So very proud. What father wouldn't be seeing all that you've achieved? Perhaps…perhaps his put-downs are his way of making sure that you keep your feet on the ground. That you don't become too carried away with your own importance…"

"Do you believe that?" he asked.

She wanted to say no, that she simply believed his father was a cold-hearted man who delighted in putting his son down, but she knew that wasn't what Preston needed to hear from her. "Yes, I think that must be it."

"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced, burying his face in her neck. "Are you still refusing to come tomorrow?"

Rebecca sighed heavily, knowing that her outburst had been as petty and childish as the behaviour she had been chastising him for. "If you want me there, I'll be there."

"I want you there," he replied, his breath hot on her neck.

"Then I'll be there," she said, as he lifted his head and their mouths met. "But I'm there for you," she said, "not to impress your father."

"I love you, Rebecca Lodge," he whispered, kissing her again, his fingers unbuttoning her nightdress and slipping inside to meet the curve of her breasts.

His touch made her shiver. "What about your father?" she whispered back.

He grinned at her, "I can be quiet if you can."


	33. Chapter 33

**Thanks so much for all your reviews!! Please keep them coming!! Again there is dialogue in this chapter from the Tempest episode which I don't own. **

The next day dawned bright and fair and, looking back, Rebecca would always wonder how things could change so quickly and with such drastic consequences. She woke early, unable to sleep and left Preston lying sprawled across the bed, his hair flopping into his eyes, his breathing steady and rhythmic. She was downstairs making breakfast before either he or his father emerged. When they did, she and Preston exchanged a secret, knowing smile, each remembering the passion they had shared the previous night. They had just wanted to be with each other and it had been the most perfect moment they had shared in a long time.

"Is everything all in order for this afternoon?" Preston Senior asked as they sat at the table.

"Yes Father," Preston replied. "All I need is for my investors to arrive on time and everything should run like clockwork."

"Good. You want to start by making the right impression."

"I have every confidence in Preston's ability to make the hotel a success, today and every day," Rebecca said, reaching over and squeezing her husband's hand.

"Quite," Preston Senior replied, "but your knowledge of business is hardly extensive."

"Rebecca _did _run the farm, Father," Preston reminded him.

"To the point of having it repossessed by the bank."

Rebecca was furious, "I did not…"

"Father, Rebecca is eminently capable," Preston interrupted, "It was bad luck that she lost the farm, not bad management."

"Well, it all turned out well in the end, so I understand," Preston Senior said. "From what Preston's told me, your tenant appears to be making a good job of it."

"Yes he is," Rebecca replied as evenly as possible, "I have no complaints."

"Of course, Preston will need you at the hotel. Good hostesses are hard to come by," he smiled at her as though passing a compliment.

"I already have a job, sir, but I intend to help Preston in any way I can," she replied.

"Ah yes, in the general store," he commented, his tone derogatory. "I think you must be the first Lodge wife in history to have a job."

"Well I'm pleased to be bucking the trend," Rebecca replied as amiably as she could, though she longed to stand up and thump him. Later, as they were riding to town in the surrey, she closed her ears to the sound of her father-in-law's voice, proclaiming his so-called wisdom, and gazed out instead at the Fall scenery.

As they arrived at the station, Preston Senior imparted more words of wisdom. "Remember Preston, you want your investors to feel powerful and important."

"Father, I think seeing the hotel, the fruit of their investment, will make them feel important," Preston replied. He paused to help Rebecca out of the surrey and she smiled encouragingly at him.

As they stepped onto the platform, they heard Horace talking to Sully and Brian. "Sully, the train was delayed. It's stuck a few miles past Monument."

"Stuck?" Preston echoed, hurrying over, "What are you talking about?"

"I just got word there was a terrible storm, trees and branches blowing all over blocking the tracks."

"It can't be," Preston groaned, "Not today."

"It is," Horace replied, shooting him a disdainful look. "Wire said it was raining and blowing so hard that homes and buildings getting torn up. It'll take some time til they clear the tracks."

Preston turned back to face his father. Rebecca looked between them. "Preston, perhaps we should postpone the ceremony until we know the storm's passed."

"The tracks will be cleared," he said, looking at his father. "We'll wait." Preston Senior nodded approvingly.

"Why don't we get some coffee at Grace's?" Rebecca suggested.

"Fine," Preston said. As they made their way back towards the surrey, he took Rebecca's arm and held her back. "I only hope this all works out in the end."

"Of course it will," she replied, "and even if it doesn't, it's not the end of the world."

"No," he agreed, watching his father's back. "No it isn't."

XXXX

The atmosphere at the hotel was good, despite the greyness of the sky and the increasing wind. Guests were all milling around the front entrance. The building had been decorated with banners and balloons and, as they pulled up in the surrey, Rebecca couldn't help feeling a surge of pride on Preston's behalf. He had worked so hard for this moment and she only hoped that the rain would stay away until after the ceremony.

As they pulled to a halt, Hank and Jake sauntered up. "Where's all your high class investors?" the latter asked.

"Their train was detained," Preston replied.

"There's a big storm," Andrew added helpfully from his seat in the back next to Rebecca.

"It's not coming here," Preston said, glancing at the sky. "I've already sent some carriages out to pick my investors up. We'll begin as soon as they return and then it's straight back to my plan."

"I think your plan's about to change," Hank laughed, holding out his hand to catch the first drops of rain.

Preston climbed out of the surrey and helped Rebecca out, glaring at Hank as he did so. "Darling," he turned to her, "would you mind going inside and checking that everything's in order?"

"Of course," she replied. "Hank. Jake."

"Rebecca," they both touched their hats as she passed.

She went inside and had a final look around. Everything looked perfect. All of a sudden, however, it seemed as though night had descended. The sky became dark, the wind picked up and sheets of rain started to fall. Leaving the warm parlour, she headed back out onto the veranda where Preston and his father were standing.

"Your investors are not coming, Preston, you'd best move things along," Preston Senior said.

"Yes sir," Preston agreed before stepping out onto the podium, trying hard to ignore the rain. He motioned for the band to stop playing and then addressed the guests. "Thank you everyone for your patience and welcome to the grand opening of the Spring Chateau and Health Resort!" As he spoke, lightening flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled. "Reverend!"

The Reverend stepped out quickly into the rain, holding onto his hat. "Preston, perhaps we should take the ceremony inside!" Preston ignored him. "Perhaps we should take the ceremony inside now!" He turned on his heel and fled back to the safety of the veranda.

Preston remained where he was on the podium, watching in despair as the crowds flocked past him and onto the veranda. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he himself was now soaking wet and, for a moment, he closed his eyes against the scene around him, unable to believe it had come to this.

Rebecca stood poised on the edge of the veranda, not knowing what to do or say. She made a move to step out and go to him, but his father, took her arm, preventing her. "Don't be foolish, my dear," he said firmly. She turned and glared at him, pulling her arm out of his hold as the banner which had been fixed to the top windows suddenly broke free and blew away. "Preston!" he shouted over the raging wind and rain, "Are you just going to stand there?!"

Preston closed his eyes again, "No sir."

At that moment, Rebecca darted out into the squall and over to where he was standing. "Preston! Preston please come inside!" He didn't reply. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, "Darling…" He turned to look at her and she saw the misery and defeat on his face. "Darling, please…"

Preston suddenly seemed to come alive. "Rebecca! Darling, you're soaking! Get inside, come on!" He climbed down from the podium and hurriedly steered her back onto the veranda.

Everyone surged into the hotel and stood in the hallways and the parlour rooms stamping their feet and shaking off the rain. The band hurriedly set up in a corner and began playing again, their instruments dripping with water. Preston ordered his staff to light the fires and then turned back to where Rebecca was shivering slightly in the doorway.

"You should get dried off," he said.

"There's too much to do," she replied, shaking her head and peeling off the small jacket she was wearing. "We need to entertain everyone until the weather eases. I'm going to go and see if Grace and Robert E need any help in the kitchen. Perhaps we can lay some of the food out and help take everyone's minds off of what's happened."

"Perhaps," he replied, catching sight of his father coming towards them.

"Preston, you need to do something to keep your guests amused," he declared.

"We're aware of that, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said.

"As soon as you knew the weather was turning, you should have made a contingency plan," he continued.

"A contingency plan?" Rebecca echoed. "Excuse me, sir, but how exactly do you think we were supposed to know what was going to happen with the weather? It's been unfortunate, that's all. We couldn't have foreseen it!"

"Rebecca…"

"No, Preston!" She shook him off. "I am tired of having to constantly defend ourselves to your father who has done nothing but criticise since he came here and accepted our hospitality." She turned back to her father-in-law. "Perhaps if that was all you intended to do here, sir, you should have stayed in Boston where your opinions are either welcomed or merely accepted. But I will _not _have this in my own hometown and certainly not in my own home! Quite frankly, the sooner you return to Boston the happier Preston and I will be! Now," she turned back to her husband, "if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going to see what I can do to help." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed away in the direction of the kitchen.

Preston Senior turned back to his son, "Well. Your wife is nothing if not forthright."

Preston paused as he was about to meekly agree, but then his own anger took over. "You're right, Father, she is. And I love her for it and wouldn't have her any other way. And since you have made it abundantly clear from the start that you neither like her nor accept her then I'm sure you will be eager to return home as soon as possible." With that, he left his father standing open-mouthed with surprise.

XXXX

Twenty minutes or so passed with the rain and wind continuing to howl around the hotel while those inside tried to make the best of things. Preston went around his guests apologising for the problems and found most of them to be fairly accepting of the fact that he couldn't have prevented them while Rebecca assisted Grace in the kitchen, despite the latter's protestations.

All of a sudden, however, there came a holler from outside. "Twister!"

Everyone surged to the windows to look out and, on the horizon, was the unmistakable finger making its way towards them. People began screaming, running about, not knowing where to go or what to do. Rebecca, hearing the commotion, emerged from the kitchen. "What's going on?" she asked one frightened looking elderly woman.

"Tornado!" Came the reply and fear immediately coursed through her. In her time in Colorado Springs she had only ever encountered one tornado in the past when she had been five years old and at least ten people had been killed.

"Preston!" She hurriedly tried to make her way past people back towards the parlour where she had last seen him. But as she pushed past people, the lights suddenly went out, plunging the entire hotel into darkness. People started screaming and she found herself pushed and jostled in the process. The noise of the wind was incredible, drowning out the screams and shouts of the people inside and the building began to shake against its foundations. Up ahead, she could hear windows smashing and the sound of glass hitting the floor. The grandfather clock at the door shuddered and then fell forward at her feet, causing her to jump back. "Preston!" she screamed his name again.

"Rebecca!" She turned and saw him coming towards her and rushed forward into his arms. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, relieved to be touching him, "you?"

"Have you seen my father?" he asked.

"No," she replied as more windows began to shatter around them.

"We have to find someone to hide!" he said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her along with him.

"But what about the others?!" she shouted, though she knew even as the words left her mouth that everyone was too scared and out of control to listen to any one person.

"Come on!" he replied, pulling her towards the stairs. Underneath, there was a cupboard housing various equipment and he pulled inside and closed the door. "Get on the floor!" he ordered her and she did as requested. Then he lay over her, protecting her body with his as the noise raged around them.

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut tight and prayed for it all to be over.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen," Preston said, his voice at her ear.

She didn't reply. She didn't give a hoot about the hotel so long as everyone survived. "I love you," was all she said.

Preston pulled her close. "I love you too."

XXXX

Eventually the sound of the raging wind slowly began to die away until, suddenly, there was calm. Sunshine began to break through the heavy clouds as though night was suddenly giving way to day. The initial peace didn't last long as people started crying out and there was the sound of creaking wood and breaking glass as people moved from their positions, desperate to get outside and away from the building.

Preston, still lying over Rebecca, pulled himself to his knees and looked down at her. "Are you all right?"

Rebecca sat up and pushed her hair away from her face, "I think so." He opened the door of the cupboard and light poured in. She turned to look at him and saw there was blood on the front of his jacket. "Are you bleeding?" she said, moving towards him.

He looked down at his jacket and then lifted it to look underneath. "No." He looked back at her, "It's not me, it's you." He pulled her back to him and saw that the back of her dress was sliced open and there was a long, angry looking gash oozing blood. "My darling, you're hurt."

Rebecca twisted around to look at it. "I didn't feel anything," she said. "It must have been earlier from the breaking windows."

"We need to find Andrew and have him take a look at you," he insisted, getting to his feet, taking her arm and helping her up. He pushed the door open wider and propelled her back into the corridor.

"I'm not badly injured," she protested, "Andrew will have his hands full with those who are..." She trailed off as she took in the devastation. The hotel which had once looked so beautiful now appeared to lie in ruins. Broken windows, smashed glass, upturned furniture…

"Well you need to sit down at any rate," Preston said, swallowing hard.

"I want to help," she protested, "people need help and the hotel…" even as she spoke, however, she started to feel a bit woozy and light headed and reached out to place one hand on the wall to steady herself.

Preston leapt forward and put his arm around her waist, "Darling, I _insist_ that you sit down. Please!"

"All right," she replied weakly. "I'll…I'll sit down." He propelled her out into the bright sunshine and steered her to the steps.

"Sit here for now," he instructed her, clearing a space and helping her to sit. "I should go and see if my father's all right."

"Yes," Rebecca said, "you should. I'll be fine here."

"Promise me you won't move," he said.

"I promise," she replied, "Go."

He searched around the hotel but couldn't find his father. As he stepped back out into the sunlight, he surveyed the devastation. There were upturned wagons littered all around, wounded people wandering back and forth as Andrew and then Michaela began tending to them. As he turned back to where Rebecca still sat on the steps, he saw two men come out of the main entrance carrying a body on a makeshift stretcher, a woman following behind sobbing. His heart sank. People had actually died in his hotel.

Just at that moment, he saw his father coming outside holding a handkerchief to a gash on his head. "Father!" he said, hurrying forwards, "I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I was…helping some people out of the parlour when some beams collapsed…" his father explained.

"Here, let me," Preston said, reaching to help him.

"No, no, don't fuss over me," he said. "You should see to the others." He glanced to where Rebecca was watching them. "And to your wife." With that, he turned and walked away from them.

"Rebecca?" Michaela appeared beside her friend. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really," she replied, "I've cut my back, that's all."

"May I look?" Rebecca obliged and turned. "It'll need cleaned. I'll have a wagon take you back to the clinic so that I can do that."

"She had an attack," Preston said.

"I didn't," Rebecca said, "it was just the shock. I'm sure it was nothing out of the ordinary."

"It wouldn't hurt to have you checked over," Michaela said. "Preston, are you injured?"

"No," he replied. "I'll stay here just now and…" he broke off as he once again surveyed the mess. "I'll come by the clinic and collect you once this mess is…" he broke off again. "Then I can take my father to the station."

Rebecca got to her feet, "Preston, I shouldn't have said to him what I did. It was uncalled for…"

"No," he interrupted her. "You were right." He bent and kissed her on the cheek. "You were right." He watched as Michaela helped Rebecca into a wagon along with other injured people and waved wearily at her as they made their way back towards town. Then he walked around and around what had once been his pride and joy, his hotel, now ruined.

"You've only course of action Preston," his father said joining him. "Rebuild."

"Yes sir," Preston replied, wishing it were that easy.

"You've had a setback son. It's part of business. You know how much adversity I've had in my career. Misfortune only made me stronger. I learned from it then moved on. Ever forward. That's the Lodge way." He clapped his son on the back and Preston regarded him with surprise. It was the first time ever that his father had ever opened up to any extent about the problems he himself had suffered and it was probably the first encouraging words he had heard for a long time.

"Yes sir," he said finally. "You…uh…you don't want to miss your train, Father."

"No," Preston Senior said. "It's not been quite the Thanksgiving I expected…"

"No," Preston said. "I'll fetch the surrey, take you to collect your things and then take you to the station."

His father looked at him, "That would be fine son."

Later, having been back to the homestead and quickly changed, Preston took his father back into town, stopping off at the clinic to collect Rebecca on the way. "How are you feeling?" he asked, helping her into the surrey.

"Fine," she replied, eyeing his father warily, "Michaela gave me some ointment for the cut and said it should heal in no time."

"That's good," Preston replied. He urged the horse on to the station and pulled up at the edge of the platform. He climbed out and Rebecca made to follow suit, but Preston Senior turned and stopped her.

"You should stay in the surrey," he said, almost kindly. Rebecca opened her mouth to make a cutting retort but he beat her to it. "It was a pleasure meeting you again, Rebecca."

Convinced there was some sort of implied sarcasm behind his words, Rebecca glanced at Preston but he looked equally as surprised. "And…uh…and you," she replied somewhat unconvincingly. He smiled at her again before climbing down from the surrey.

"I'll only be a moment," Preston told her before following his father onto the platform where the train was waiting.

"Well you've got your work cut out for you now, Preston," his father said. "Fortunately you're a capable young man."

"Father." They shook hands formally before Preston Senior made to board the train. As he watched, Preston felt overcome with the need to express everything he had ever felt towards his father. He wanted to tell him how he felt he had never earned his praise or admiration. He wanted to tell him how hard he worked in Colorado Springs and how he felt his father didn't seem to understand. But he also wanted to tell him that he was his father and, despite everything, he loved him. He stepped forward, "Father, I…"

Preston Senior turned and stepped down again. "Speak up son."

Preston paused, open-mouthed and then thought better of it. He could tell by his father's expression that he knew. "I hope you have a safe journey home."

Preston Senior paused for a fraction of a second and then stepped up onto the train. Turning, he looked back down at his son and Preston smiled slightly and inclined his head before his father disappeared into the carriage. Seconds later, the whistle blew and the train began to slowly pull out of the station. He watched it go, somewhat relieved that his father was leaving but also terrified and worried by the tasks that lay ahead.

When he got back to the surrey, Rebecca was waiting patiently. "Is everything all right?" she asked as he climbed back in.

"Yes," he replied, "everything's fine. I'll take you home and then I have to go back to the hotel to see what needs to be done." Clicking his tongue, he urged the horse forwards back out of town to their home where he helped Rebecca inside, made her some tea and then left her. Later, when he returned, he would tell her how the townsfolk had gone to the hotel to help clear up and how grateful he had been at their kindness, even if he wasn't able to show it.

**Six weeks later**

**January 1872**

"Well that looks to be healing well," Michaela said, examining the gash on Rebecca's back. "Has it been giving you any more pain?"

"No, it's been fine," Rebecca replied. "The ointment you gave me worked a treat."

"A few more weeks and it'll be gone completely," Michaela said. "You might have a small scar but it shouldn't be noticeable. You can put your dress back on now." Rebecca did as requested. "How have you been feeling generally?"

"Fine, especially now that the hotel's well on the way to be finished. We thought the repairs were going to take forever but you could hardly tell now that there had been a storm at all," Rebecca replied with a wry grin.

"Any more attacks?"

"It wasn't an attack," Rebecca said, "but no. I've felt a little sick over the last few days but I think it was some chicken we had a few nights ago. Preston decided to cook and it didn't work out too well."

Michaela turned from where she had been writing in Rebecca's file. "Sick?"

"Just a little nauseous," Rebecca said, buttoning up her dress. "It passes fairly quickly.

Michaela moved over to stand in front of her. "When do you feel like this?"

"In the mornings, but like I said, I think it was some bad chicken."

"Has Preston been sick too?"

"No, but he has a strong stomach." Rebecca looked at her friend. "What?"

"When did you have your last period?"

Rebecca thought back. With all the stress of Thanksgiving and Preston's father and the hotel repairs, and then a fairly quiet Christmas she couldn't quite remember. "A few months ago I think, why?"

"Have you experienced any other symptoms other than nausea?"

"Not really. I'm a little tired, I suppose. It's been busy at the store…" Rebecca stared at her, "Michaela, you're starting to frighten me."

"I'm sorry," Michaela replied, "Would you mind lying back for me?" Rebecca paused and then did as requested. Michaela pressed down on her stomach gently. "I know this is extremely personal but have you and Preston been having regular relations?"

Rebecca felt herself blush as she thought back, "Well…we're married. I…" Michaela stopped and looked at her. "What is it?"

Michaela sighed, "I think you may be pregnant."


	34. Chapter 34

**I went on a bit of a writing binge and turned this chapter around quite quickly so I thought, why wait until the weekend? I hope you like it and please review!!**

**January 1872**

For days after Michaela delivered the news, Rebecca walked around in a fog of disbelief and fear.

She was pregnant.

Every time she thought about it, which was all of the time, her hand would drift to her stomach and she would imagine the life that was growing inside of her. Her child. Preston's child. It was the one thing in the world she had always wanted and yet had always feared. Since her marriage and inevitable lust for marital relations, she had pushed aside her thoughts and fears. She had tried not to think about her own mother and the steely determination which had almost won out and prevented her being with the man she loved had slowly started to fade. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

If Preston had noticed a change in her behaviour he didn't comment on it. He seemed to assume that she was merely tired and he didn't question her when he caught her staring into space. She had finally found the words to write to Louisa and express her sorrow over what had happened. Her sister-in-law had replied in a letter that seemed very calm in tone and yet which she knew hid despair. The doctors had told Louisa there was no reason why she couldn't conceive again and she was hopeful that would happen. In somewhat related news, she had divulged that Helen and Charles O'Connor had scandalously separated and that rumour had it Charles was questioning his son's paternity. Preston had greeted this news with disdain, telling her that there was no way Helen would have acted so rashly and, in any event, who else could the father be? Rebecca had wickedly suggested the child could be his which had put him into a bad mood.

At the end of the first week, she still hadn't found the right moment to tell her husband and, speaking with Michaela after church on the Sunday, she had to confess that her secret remained her own.

"You have to tell him," Michaela said in a low voice, glancing over to where Preston was talking to the Reverend. "He has a right to know."

"I know that," she replied, "it's just…it's difficult to find the right moment." She sighed heavily. "Is there a way that this pregnancy could be safe for me?"

"Nothing is ever completely guaranteed," Michaela replied, "but rather than leave your health to chance I would suggest performing a caesarean section around the time you were due. Hopefully a simple procedure designed to put as little strain on your heart as possible."

"I remember you mentioning it all those months ago when I told you I couldn't marry him," Rebecca mused.

"Once you've told him," Michaela said, "both of you should come to the clinic and we can discuss it all in detail."

That thought had comforted her, but it was another two days before the truth came out.

"I think it might snow tonight," Preston observed at dinner a week after Rebecca had found out about her pregnancy. "It was certainly cold enough today and we escaped it over Christmas."

"Yes," she said distractedly. She was approximately seven weeks pregnant, or so Michaela thought. That meant that her baby would be born at the end of August. A summer birth.

"Is everything all right?" Preston asked, observing her carefully.

"Yes," she replied, finishing her soup, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Was the store busy today?"

"Not really. I could have come to the hotel after all but then you just never know, do you?"

"No," he said, "you don't." He helped her clear away the dinner plates and then they sat by the fire, Rebecca reading _Wuthering Heights_ and Preston going over some papers from the bank. He couldn't help but notice however that she barely turned any pages in the book and that her gaze frequently travelled to the fire and back again, as though there was something on her mind. She appeared in no mood to tell him, however, and he didn't want to press her. It was only later in bed, as he kissed down her throat and gently slid his hand up under her nightdress that her lack of interest became a problem.

"I'm very tired," she told him softly when he raised questioning eyes to hers.

Preston wondered if she had been suffering attacks and not telling him, "Have you been feeling all right?" he pressed, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her.

"Yes," she replied unconvincingly. She met his gaze and saw that he didn't believe her. "It's…well…"

"What?" he asked as she broke off. "My darling, if something's wrong you _must _tell me," he stroked her hair gently.

"Well…" Rebecca said as calmly as she could, "Nothing's _wrong _but…well…I have some news."

"Oh really? What?"

She looked at him, "You're going to be a father."

Preston seemed to freeze in the bed next to her. "What?"

"You're going to be a father," she repeated.

"I don't…"

"I'm pregnant, Preston," the words came out quietly. She looked at him hopefully, biting her lower lip in anticipation of his reaction. She wanted him to whoop with joy and scoop her up into his arms and tell her how happy he was. It didn't happen. The colour drained instantly from his face and he looked at her in horror.

"You're…but…" he stammered, "how…?"

"Michaela says I'm about seven weeks gone or thereabouts," Rebecca explained, "which would mean it must have happened when your father was here." She raised her eyebrows comically, thinking back to that night. "I was a little taken aback myself at first, but once the news sunk in…"

Preston moved away from her, "When did you find this out?"

"Last week." She reached for him, "I know that…"

"Last week?!" He practically leapt out of the bed, causing her to jump, and stalked over to the fire where he paced in front of it, shaking his head. "Last week?! Why in God's name didn't you say something?!"

"Because I was worried about how you might react."

"The night my father was here," he said, as though he hadn't heard her previous answer. "The night we had that conversation about him when we talked about my feelings towards him. You think it happened then?"

"Yes," she said.

His mind played back over that night. "We didn't use any protection that night."

"No."

"Did you wash yourself afterwards?"

"No."

He turned to her, his eyes flashing angrily, "Well why ever not?!"

"Because…" she paused, "because I was exhausted, because it had been a wonderful moment and I was…" she wasn't sure how to describe it.

"Careless?"

"I wasn't _careless,_" she replied, though she was now starting to feel slightly guilty.

"Well what would you call it then?" he demanded.

"I suppose it was an…an accident," she replied, looking away. "Besides, I didn't see you leaping out of bed and taking any responsibility yourself!"

"Oh, so I'm supposed to remind you every time, am I?" He glared at her. "Rebecca, this is exactly the scenario we have spent the last seven months since we married trying hard to avoid!"

"Maybe it won't be as bad as we think," she said unconvincingly.

"You could die!" he exclaimed. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"Of course not…"

"You almost wouldn't marry me because you were afraid of this happening! You were so terrified to even think about the prospect of me making love to you and now, here you are, telling me you're pregnant as though you were announcing you'd purchased a new hat!"

"How would you rather I felt about it? Would you have preferred to come home and found me on the floor prostrate with grief and worry? Sobbing and rending my hair?"

"This shouldn't have happened," he said, turning back to the fire. "We should have been more careful. This is…it's…" he broke off, not sure what else to say.

Rebecca paused for a long moment, "Michaela told me that we should go to the clinic to discuss it with her."

"Discuss what?"

"The best way of dealing with it. She said that she can perform a caesarean section when the baby's due so that there are as few complications as possible." She waited, but he didn't reply. "Preston, I thought you might have even been a little bit happy."

He turned back to face her, abject pain in his eyes, "Happy? Happy at the prospect of losing you?"

"It's happened," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "It's happened now and we can't change it. I need to know that you'll be with me because I can't do this by myself."

He stood looking at her, shaking his head gently. "I don't know…I'm not sure how…" he broke off and sank down on the edge of the bed. "This is my fault."

Rebecca shook her head violently, "No."

"Yes it is," he insisted. "I told you that I would protect you, look after you and now…now you're pregnant with my child and it's all my fault." He put his head in his hands.

"Preston…" she crawled over the bed to him and wrapped her arms around him, "It's not your fault. It's my fault. I…" she buried her face in his neck, not sure what to say, not sure how to say it.

"If you were to die," he said, lifting his gaze to hers, "I would die too."

"I'm not going to die," she told him, more confidently than she felt. "Just because I have this…this condition doesn't mean that what happened to my mother will happen to me. I'm strong. You know that, you've said it yourself." She kissed his face gently. "Please…I promise it'll be all right."

He moved out of her grip. "I need some air." Opening the bedroom door he slipped out, quietly closing it behind him. Rebecca made to follow but then stopped, knowing that he needed some time to digest the news. She knew he would come around, but in the end, he didn't return to bed that night.

XXXX

Preston barely slept. Having gone downstairs and stood on the porch for a while breathing in the cold air, he had then made tea and sat by the dying fire thinking over everything Rebecca had said. He felt sick thinking about it. Thinking about what he had done. He had let himself get carried away, had too freely enjoyed her affections and lavished her with his own that he hadn't stopped to consider that there should be no mistakes. That it shouldn't have been done without them both being absolutely sure that every possible precaution had been taken.

He thought back to the night not long after they were married. When they had argued over business and he had brought her to see the house. He remembered their unquenchable passion in the bank and the look on Rebecca's face when she had told him she hadn't been protected. He had been so afraid that night and for many days after until she told him all was well. He had cursed himself for not taking more of an active interest in that side of things and had vowed it would be different. But as with all things, sense had occasionally been lost and now he was paying the price for it.

He left the house before Rebecca was awake, dressing quickly while she slept, and then making his way into town. It was early and the bank wasn't due to open for another two hours, but he felt as though he needed the peace and quiet to think. Staring at figures and accounts had always calmed him in the past and he hoped they would do the same now. But every time he tried to concentrate, he saw Rebecca's face swimming before him.

He left the bank briefly and was walking around to Grace's when he saw Michaela dismount and tie her horse up outside the clinic. Stepping forwards, he came up behind her. "May I speak with you?" he asked.

Michaela turned, "Of course." She opened the door and he followed her inside. "Is it about Rebecca?" she asked, closing it again behind him and hanging up her coat, knowing deep down that it would be about little else.

"She told me last night," he replied. "Though I gather _you've_ known for some time."

"I'm a doctor, Preston. I diagnose symptoms, that's all."

"I'm…concerned…" he said slowly, "about how this pregnancy will affect her."

"That's understandable," Michaela said, "but, as I told Rebecca, I'll be monitoring her carefully for the next few months and as long as she doesn't over-exert herself, I don't see any problem come the birth."

Preston looked at the floor, "You still intend to go ahead with this caesarean section?"

"Yes. I wouldn't normally advocate it but, in the circumstances, I think it's the safest way for both Rebecca and the baby."

He turned and looked out of the window, finally giving voice to the thoughts that had plagued him. "I've heard…that there are ways…doctors….who are willing to perform…other operations."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

He turned back to her, "There is another option, isn't there? A way to put an end to all of this now?" Michaela frowned. "A way to…end the pregnancy?"

She took in what he said, "You're talking about an abortion."

He nodded, "Precisely."

"Preston, I'm a doctor. I'm trained to save lives not…"

"But it can be done?" he looked searchingly at her.

"Well, yes, it can be done," she said, "but it's illegal not to mention morally questionable."

He waved his hand dismissively, "I'm not interested in the religious or political debate. I only want to know how I can go about finding out…how to get it done."

"Have you spoken to Rebecca about this?" He looked away, not wanting to admit that it was a decision he had come to alone. "Well, don't you think you should? It's her body and her baby and attempting to perform this sort of procedure on a woman against her will is repugnant!"

"Spare me your speeches, Michaela," he snapped, irritated by her piety, "are you saying that you will not perform the operation?"

"Preston…" she stepped forward, "if you think that having this procedure will be safer for Rebecca than her carrying her baby to term and having a caesarean section, then you're mistaken. Hundreds of women die in this country every day because of it. Most doctors won't perform it which means that you would have to find someone of questionable practices to do it and…"

"So be it."

"And you would be risking Rebecca's life needlessly!"

"Needlessly?" he echoed. "Her life is already in danger because of this! She could die having this baby, Michaela."

"I'm aware it must have been a shock…"

"You can't for one minute think I'm happy about this news, can you?" he looked at her. "Don't you think that if I could take back every moment…that I would?" he swallowed hard, not wanting to show too much emotion.

Michaela looked at him sympathetically, "Preston…"

"I won't let my wife die when there is a way to prevent it." He opened the door. "If you won't help me then I'll take her to someone who will. Denver…or Boston if I have to."

"And just how do you intend to convince her? She's worried, yes, but a part of her is happy too, as it should be."

Preston turned back to face her, "She's trying to convince herself that everything will be all right. She's trying to convince _me _that everything will be all right…" he shook his head. "I'm not going to lose her, Michaela. Not for a child I don't even want. Have never wanted."

Michaela paused, "You don't want it at all?"

"No," he shook his head, "I don't. And you can make of that what you will but I did this to her and now I have to find a way to fix it." He touched his hat. "Good day Michaela."

XXXX

Rebecca tried to speak with Preston at various points throughout the day, but he proved either to be elusive or otherwise preoccupied. At lunch time, she couldn't seem to find him anywhere around town and every time she ventured into the bank he was either with a customer or had his head buried in accounts.

"Can't you even spare five minutes?" she had begged.

"I have to finish this," he had replied without lifting his head. "I'll talk to you at home."

"But…"

"I said I'll talk to you at home." He lifted angry eyes to meet hers and, feeling like a scolded child, she had left.

He had arrived home late, made no move to bestow his customary kiss on her, and they sat in strained silence over the meal until Preston deigned to speak to her. "I spoke with Michaela this afternoon," He said tightly.

"Really?" Rebecca looked at him, grateful that he was even addressing her. "What did she say?"

"Much as I expected," he replied, refusing to meet her gaze. "We spoke about all of the options."

"I think that she's right about a caesarean section being the most sensible option," Rebecca said, "that way we can control what…"

"I made clear precisely what I thought was the best option," he interrupted her.

"Which is what?" she asked.

"That we take you to a doctor who will…remove the problem." His words hung in the air. Rebecca knew what they meant but the full horror of it took a moment to sink into her subconscious. "Seeing as she seemed unwilling to do it herself I wired Doctor Cassidy and he has given me the name of a doctor in Denver who is willing to perform the operation at a reasonable price. The earlier the better." He stole a quick glance at her. "He's a well respected man in his field and I'm sure you'll agree it's the best thing all round."

Rebecca found she couldn't speak. Preston carried on eating as though he had merely been discussing the weather. When she found her voice, she discovered it would barely carry. "You're suggesting that I get rid of our child."

He winced slightly at the words, "I'm suggesting that there is a way to make all this go away."

"You don't want our child."

Preston put his fork down and met her gaze. How could he tell her that, despite what he had said to Michaela the thought of Rebecca round and full with his child was a welcome one? That although he had pushed it to the very back of his mind and told himself it could never be, he had always wondered what it would be like to have a son. But it was something that had been a secret fantasy only. It was something that could never be and that he would never allow. He had to take responsibility for what he had done. He had to be the voice of reason. "It's not even a child, Rebecca, it's…it's…" he broke off, not sure how to describe it. "It's not a question of wanting it. It's a question of doing the right thing."

"And the right thing as far as you're concerned is to have some doctor rip our child out of me?" She was trembling as she spoke.

"Rebecca, I gave up on the idea of having a family when I found out about your condition. I knelt at your bedside in Michaela's clinic and pleaded with you that children didn't matter to me because I wanted to marry you. You made it very clear then that the mere threat of a pregnancy could result in your death." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. "Darling…" he saw her face relax at the use of the term of affection. "I love you so much and I can't sit here and let you put yourself at risk like this! I've done this to you, so please let me put it right."

"You didn't _do this to me,_" she said stubbornly, "and it's my choice."

"And I have no say?"

"Preston, I thought I could live without a child. I reminded myself every day what had happened to my mother and how I couldn't bare that to happen to me. I thought that if I worked in the store and the hotel and had you that it would be enough for me. But then I saw Myra with Samantha and Michaela with Katie and I felt as though something was missing in my life. I wanted to give you a child. I wanted…" she broke off at the look in his eyes. "I wanted to know what it felt like to carry a baby. To give birth to our child. To be a family."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, "I don't understand."

Rebecca looked down at the table. "There were times when…when I didn't use the sponge or when I didn't wash myself afterwards…or when I didn't remind you…" she let the words trail off.

"You mean…you mean that you…" Preston's words were shocked. "You did this on purpose?" Rebecca put her head in her hands and started to cry. "You did this on purpose?!" he said again, his voice rising an octave.

"Please don't shout at me," she sniffed.

Preston pushed his chair back violently from the table, causing it to fall over with a crash. "You deliberately allowed yourself to become pregnant?! How could you be so stupid?!" he raged.

"Please…"

"You stupid, stupid girl!"

"I'm not stupid!" She shouted back, tears pouring down her cheeks. "I wanted it! It wasn't fair and I wanted it! And I've got it and I'm keeping it!" He strode over to the door, grabbing his coat in the process, and wrenched it open. "Where are you going?" she got to her feet.

"Out!" he replied.

"Preston, please don't leave! Please!" The door banged shut behind him. "Preston!" She ran after him out onto the porch and watched as he climbed aboard Thunder. "Preston, please don't go!"

He looked down at her and, in the dim light, she could see the cold anger marring his face. "Why would you do this?!" He kicked Thunder hard and the horse leapt forward, cantering away from the house.

"Preston!" Rebecca screamed after him. "Please don't leave me!" She watched as Thunder disappeared into the darkness then sank down on the porch steps, ignoring the bitter wind that blew around her. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…" she sobbed to herself. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…"


	35. Chapter 35

**Another chapter for you! Please review!!**

Preston headed instinctively for the hotel, a place of tranquillity where everything was in order and as it should be. It offered him a peace that he felt he could no longer have in his own home. Uncharacteristically, he ensconced himself at the bar and lost himself in numerous glasses of the house whisky. By the fourth or fifth glass, a pleasant glow had settled over him and the fear and worry had been pushed from the forefront of his mind.

He had just finished another glass, when he saw Andrew standing in the doorway. "Andrew!" he called out, waving his glass.

The other man hurried over, "Good evening Preston."

"You should congratulate me, Andrew," Preston said.

"Why's that?"

"Rebecca's pregnant." He smirked at the expression on his friend's face. "That's exactly how I felt." He put the glass back on the bar, motioning to the barkeep for another.

"That's…that's wonderful news," Andrew said carefully, sitting down next to him.

"No it isn't," Preston replied.

"I take it this wasn't planned."

He snorted. "Planned? My wife isn't supposed to become pregnant, Doctor Cook. My wife has a heart condition which makes any pregnancy extremely dangerous to her health. And I thought she understood and accepted that but no…." he shook his head, "no Rebecca thinks she knows better than anyone else."

"I see." Andrew shook his head as the barkeep asked if he wanted a drink.

Preston drained another whisky. "You know, I actually thought it was my fault. When she told me, I blamed myself for giving her a child…" Andrew looked uncomfortable, "but in reality…she did it to herself." He nodded. "That's right. She knew she wasn't supposed to get pregnant and she went and did it anyway." He laughed mirthlessly. "My father said she was forthright and headstrong and wouldn't be any good for me in the long run and he was right."

"I hardly think that's fair," Andrew said cautiously.

"No?" Preston looked at him, "How would you feel if you were me?"

"Well it's not really for me to say…"

"But I want to hear your opinion," Preston pressed, "How would you feel if you were me?"

"I suppose…I suppose I would be surprised and confused but…at the end of the day, Rebecca is having your child."

Preston visibly shuddered at the words. "Yes."

"Surely a part of you must be…happy?"

"You don't understand."

"But if you love her…"

"_If _I love her?" Preston turned angry eyes on his friend. "I love her more than anything in this world. I love her more than I could ever tell her. Don't you see, doesn't she see, that's why I'm so…so…?" he trailed off. "I can't lose her Andrew. I _won't _lose her, not over this."

"So what do you intend to do?"

"I wired Doctor Cassidy this afternoon and he advised me of the name of a doctor who could perform an abortion." Andrew looked shocked. "You don't approve?"

"Well I…"

"It's the only way," Preston nodded to himself.

"It's an extremely difficult decision to make," Andrew said slowly, "and one Rebecca must be fully in agreement with. The procedure is usually only performed when there is grave risk to the mother's health…"

"Which is exactly the situation here," Preston interrupted.

"Preston, a procedure like this is not an easy option. Women die all the time from complications."

"You sound like Michaela."

"You've discussed this with her?"

"She gave me the benefit of her opinion."

Andrew sighed. "Preston, I'm not married. I have no idea how I would feel if my wife were pregnant with the condition Rebecca has and therefore have no right to tell you what to think or do…"

Preston looked at him, "But?"

"But I've seen the way you are together. I know how much you love each other and I can't help but think that this could tear you apart if you're not careful."

XXXX

Rebecca had sat at the kitchen table for what seemed like hours waiting for Preston to come home. Every time she had managed to regain control of her emotions, a fresh wave of anguish would wash over her and she would find herself in tears again. She had let the fire die and hadn't bothered to light the lamps, so the house was in semi-darkness.

How could he want her to get rid of their child? How could he see that as being the ideal option? Every time she thought about it, she would think about the child growing inside her and feel an overwhelming love for it. Her son or daughter.

The sound of horses' hooves broke her out of her reverie and she got to her feet and rushed to the door, hoping against all hope that it would be Preston. It wasn't. She tried to hide her disappointment as Matthew climbed down from his mount.

"Matthew," she said, wiping her eyes viciously, "I thought…"

"Are you ok?" he asked, peering at her.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she replied as cheerfully as possible. "What are you doing here?"

"Doctor Mike said you forgot to pick up your digitalis today," he said waving a package at her, "I said I'd bring it out."

"That's very…very kind of you," she said. "Do you want to come in?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and hurried back inside the house, turning up the lamps and rebuilding the fire. She heard him follow her in and close the door behind her. "Tea?"

"No, that's ok," he said carefully, "Rebecca, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes I'm…I'm…" before she could stop herself, Rebecca descended into a fresh wave of tears. She put her hands over her face and sobbed and, moments later, she found herself in Matthew's arms.

"What's wrong?" he asked, panicked, holding her against him. "Becca, please tell me."

"Becca," she echoed, pulling back and wiping her cheeks, "You haven't called me that for years. Not since you were ten and I was fifteen and you still couldn't roll your 'r's' properly." She looked at him and took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Matthew paused for a long moment and she tried to read his expression, "That's…I'm happy for you. And Preston," he added quickly.

"I wish Preston was happy," she said, moving away from him and sitting down at the table. "He was so angry when I told him."

"Angry?"

"He's worried, I know that's all it is but…to ask me…to tell me to get rid of it…I just…"

"He told you to get rid of it?" Matthew echoed, clearly shocked. She nodded unhappily. "But…but it's your baby. It's your decision."

She let out a shaky sigh, "I'm not supposed to have children, Matthew. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have done it."

"It's hardly your fault you got pregnant," he said supportively.

"Yes it is. I allowed it to happen."

It took a moment for her words to sink in. "Oh…"

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, "Do you think I'm selfish?"

"I'm not sure it's for me to say…"

"But if it was you," she pressed, "if it was your child?"

Matthew sat down at the table opposite her and looked at his hands. "If you were pregnant with my child?" She nodded. "I'd be so happy. I'd be out there shouting it from the roof," he smiled at her. "Then I'd be making sure that you were all right."

"Preston wants to make sure that I'm all right," she said, "that's why he suggested the abortion…"

"I don't mean like that," he interrupted her. "I mean I'd be making sure that Doctor Mike was taking care of you and I'd be making sure that you rested and took care of yourself and the baby until it was born." He looked at her earnestly. "You and the baby would be the only things that mattered."

Rebecca gave him a watery smile, "You'll make some woman very happy one day, Matthew."

"Yeah well," he looked away, "Ingrid's dead, Emma's gone to Europe and you…well you're married."

"There's plenty of other women out there. You'll find someone to love and take care of."

"You think so?"

She reached over and covered his hand with hers, "I know so." He looked down at her hand over his and gently moved his thumb to brush along her skin. Then he looked up at her again and she instantly knew.

"Rebecca…"

"Don't," she said quickly, snatching her hand back.

"Just listen to me," he said, getting to his feet.

"No, Matthew, don't. Please don't." He crouched in front of her chair, his eyes alight. "Please."

"If Preston doesn't want you…"

"Stop it."

"If he doesn't want you," he persisted, "I do. I always have."

"Matthew…" Rebecca scraped her chair back and got to her feet, anxious to put distance between them. She moved over to the sink, but he followed her.

"You know how I feel about you, or if you don't you damn well should. All right so you're married to him, it doesn't matter. We could go away somewhere, somewhere far away where people don't know us. You could have the baby…"

"Please stop," she begged him, fresh tears starting to fall. "I can't handle this Matthew, please…"

He took her shoulders, "You could have the baby and we could bring it up together. It don't bother me that it's not mine. I love you." Before she could say anything more, he had taken her face in his hands and kissed her.

As his mouth and body pressed against hers, Rebecca closed her eyes…and felt nothing. There was no flutter in her stomach, no sudden state of arousal. He was a friend, someone she cared about, but he couldn't make her feel the way Preston did. He pulled away from her and looked at her expectantly.

"Matthew…" she said slowly, "I care about you…as a friend…but there can never be anything else between us. Please try to understand…" He stepped back from her. "I don't want to hurt you but I love Preston."

"And he wants you to get rid of your child!" he pointed out. "But you still love him?"

"Yes."

He looked at her and she could anger and pain in his eyes. "I don't understand you. _I _care about you. _I'd _look after you and the baby no matter what. Hell, I came all the way to Denver to your wedding hoping that…" he broke off.

"You said you had brought back a fugitive who skipped trial."

"Hell, I lied. I thought maybe you might decide that you didn't want to marry Preston after all. I thought maybe…" he stopped again.

"Oh Matthew, if I ever gave you the wrong impression, I'm sorry," she said, "You've been a true friend and I would never intentionally want to cause you pain. But you and I…"

"It's ok," he stopped her. "I get it." He moved over to the door, lifting his hat from where he had left it on the table. "I hope everything goes ok with Preston and the baby, whatever you decide." She watched him, unsure of what to say, wishing it could go back to the way it had been. "Good night Rebecca."

"Good night Matthew," she replied softly, then he was gone.

XXXX

Preston didn't return home that night so, the next morning, Rebecca dressed and made her way into town to try and find him. She assumed that he had stayed at the hotel but she knew that business would carry on no matter what else was happening, so she wasn't surprised to see movement in the bank when she arrived. The door was locked, given that it wasn't yet ten o'clock, but when she knocked, she heard footsteps on the other side and he opened it. Without saying anything, he opened it wider and stepped back to allow her to come inside.

"I thought I might find you here," she said, as he closed and locked it again behind her. "You didn't come home last night."

"I stayed at the hotel," he replied, brushing past her back to his desk which was strewn with paper.

"I thought as much." She sat down in the chair opposite and watched him as he returned to looking at whatever he had been doing before her arrival. "You're still angry with me."

Preston didn't lift his head, "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Preston…" Rebecca paused, unsure how to put across what she felt without giving away what had happened with Matthew the previous evening. "I've thought a lot about everything and…I understand why you're angry. It was wrong of me to put you through such torment last year when I refused to marry you only to turn around now and allow the one thing to happen that I was previously prepared to use to keep us apart. It was selfish and wrong and…and I see that now." He looked up at her but didn't say anything. "I may want this baby…but…" her voice broke and she felt tears spring into her eyes again, "but you are the only man who can make me feel…things…and I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you. So if having this procedure is what it takes to keep you, then I'll do it."

Preston's mouth dropped open and he stared at her for a long moment. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Rebecca looked away, "I know what I stand to lose."

"You make it sound as though I threatened to leave you if you didn't do this."

She met his gaze, "Isn't that what you would do? Leave me? You kept your end of the bargain, Preston," she continued before he could answer. "I didn't keep mine. I'm in the wrong and I accept it. I'm willing to make amends for it but I need to know how you feel. I need to know that if I do this, that we can still be together."

Preston sighed and rested his forehead against the heels of his hands. "I never imagined we would actually find ourselves in this situation." He looked up. "But you did." She looked away. "Rebecca, you have to know that it's not that I don't want us to have a child. In an ideal world I would be ecstatic about becoming a father."

"Would you shout it from the roof?" she asked, echoing Matthew's words.

"Probably," he replied, "but this isn't an ideal world and I can live without being a father. What I can't live without, is you. I couldn't stand by and watch you put yourself through this. I'm confident in my mind that this is the only way."

She nodded, "Then I agree with you and I consent to having the procedure done. How soon can we go to Denver?"

"I can wire Doctor Cassidy this morning and we could be there by tomorrow."

Rebecca got to her feet. "Then do that. The sooner this is over with…"

"The better," he finished, standing up also. She could see the barely disguised relief in his face. He came around the desk and took her into his arms. "Everything's going to be all right," he promised her as she buried her face in his neck and willed away her tears. "I promise."

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

XXXX

Michaela knocked on the door of the Sheriff's office and let herself in. Matthew was sitting in the far corner, cleaning his gun. He barely looked up when she came in.

"Matthew," she greeted him, "is everything all right?"

"Fine," he replied shortly.

"Did you take the digitalis to Rebecca last night?"

"Yes."

Michaela paused, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, viciously rubbing the barrel, "nothing at all."

She came and perched on the desk in front of him, "I know you better than that, remember," she smiled, "what's bothering you?"

Matthew sighed, "Rebecca."

"What about her?"

"You know that she's pregnant?"

"Of course."

"And you know that Preston doesn't want it?"

"Oh, I see," Michaela sighed, "she told you?" He nodded. "I know that it's hard for us to understand…"

"She's having his child!" he raged at her. "He should be happy about it! He should…" he trailed off and shook his head. "I told her…I asked her…"

"What?"

"I told her that I loved her," he said quietly, "I asked her to leave here with me and have the baby." He looked up into Michaela's shocked face. "But you don't have to worry because she said no."

"Matthew, Rebecca's a married woman. You can't just go around…"

"I don't care!"

"Well you should! You had no right to put her in that position! She's confused and upset enough without you declaring inappropriate feelings for her!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he slammed his gun down on the table. "You don't know how I feel about her."

"Yes I do. I _do _know how you feel about her and if she wasn't married to Preston then it would be up to you what you wanted to do with those feelings. But she _is _married to Preston and you can't change that, even if you wanted to and even if she wanted to." She put her hand on his arm. "I know it's difficult when we want someone we can't have but you have to accept it and move on. There are plenty of other, available women, out there."

"That's what she said," he replied ruefully.

"She's right. Don't let this damage your friendship with her." He nodded, unconvinced. "Will we see you for supper this evening?"

"Sure."

"All right then." Michaela stepped back outside and let out a long breath. As she did so, she saw the door of the bank opening and Rebecca came out, followed closely by Preston. The former looked as though she had been crying and she noticed that Preston put a comforting hand on her back as they began to walk in the direction of the station. Curious, she decided to follow them and watched as they made their way to the telegraph office. Preston stepped up to the hatch and spoke to Horace while Rebecca hung back. After a few moments, he joined her and they began coming back towards her.

"Michaela," Preston greeted her, touching his hat.

"Preston, Rebecca." Michaela noticed the other woman couldn't quite meet her gaze. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," Preston replied, "Rebecca and I were just making plans to travel to Denver later this afternoon."

"Denver?" Michaela looked at Rebecca.

"Yes. Rebecca's agreed to undergo the…procedure. She agrees with me that it's the best thing for everyone."

"Rebecca?"

Rebecca looked up, "It's for the best, Michaela," she replied softly. "It really is for the best."


	36. Chapter 36

**Wow, the debate over what Preston will do when he finds out about Matthew has been fierce! It's been great to hear your opinions guys! We will get to that but first...can Rebecca go through with it???? Please read and review :)**

Rebecca sat staring out of the train window, remembering how only a few short months ago she had been excitedly making the same journey to Denver to get married. She remembered saying to Preston about how trains were always taking her to important events. Well, getting rid of your child was an important event, but it certainly wasn't one she was looking forward to.

After Preston had sent the wire, they had quickly packed a few things and purchased tickets to Denver. As she had stood at the telegraph office, Rebecca had stolen a look at Horace and thought she could see pity in his expression. Before she could think any more on it, though, Preston had guided her onto the train and they had been leaving.

She glanced at her husband now, sitting opposite her, and told herself that she was doing the right thing. She loved him so much and couldn't bear the thought of a life without him. So much so, that she was willing to let someone take away her baby. As she thought about it, she let her hand drift to her stomach again, imagining she could feel the baby kick, or its heartbeat through her flesh.

When she looked up again, Preston was watching her and she knew he had seen the action. He shot her a tight smile and then leaned over and took her hands in his, effectively pulling them away from her stomach. "I was thinking we could go to Boston at Easter," he said. "It's about time I had the chance to show you off."

Rebecca looked down at their hands, entwined in front of her. "I suppose."

"It'll be nice for you to see Louisa again."

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again, "I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about."

Rebecca met his gaze, "In relation to what?"

"The…procedure. I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about. It'll be over before you know it and then we have the night in Denver before we come back." She nodded mutely. "I mean, everything will be fine."

"Stop saying that," she sighed, pulling her hands from his and leaning her head back against the seat. "I'm doing what you want. I don't need you to labour the point."

"I thought we agreed it was for the best?"

"Yes," she said, "yes we did."

"Well then." Preston said, sitting back himself.

They didn't exchange any further conversation until they reached Denver. The train station was busy and it took some time for them to get their luggage and make their way to the main entrance where they were to take a carriage to their hotel. The appointment wasn't until four-thirty which only gave them just over an hour. Preston had initially suggested that the appointment be made for the following day, but Rebecca had wanted to get the thing over and done with as soon as possible. The longer she remained pregnant, the more difficult it was to stick to her decision.

As the carriage wound its way through the Denver streets, her mind again wandered to her wedding day and how she had pledged herself to Preston, secure in her mind that a family didn't matter as long as she had him. If only she had realised then how she would feel at the prospect of becoming a mother.

The hotel was luxurious, not that she had expected anything less from Preston. It was strange, but she almost got the impression that he was treating this trip as some sort of holiday rather than for the real reason.

"Do you like it?" Preston asked once they were in their room.

"It's a very nice hotel, Preston. What's not to like?" She sat down on the edge of the bed.

He hovered around her, "Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

"No." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "When do we have to be there?"

Preston followed her gaze, "We should probably leave in the next fifteen minutes."

"Fine." Rebecca stood up and walked to the window. She looked down at the street below, at people rushing backwards and forwards, completely oblivious to the torment raging inside her.

"Doctor Jones has an impressive reputation," Preston said. "Doctor Cassidy assured me that he's performed this procedure on a number of occasions with marked success. Whilst it's not generally discussed in public circles, he is widely accepted as the best."

"And just who in society has benefited from his expertise?" Rebecca asked, keeping her back turned.

"Well…" he paused, "I mean I don't know exactly…"

"No."

"I think you're being rather unfair."

She turned to look at him, "Unfair?"

"Yes," he said stubbornly. "You've agreed to do this. I haven't put a gun to your head. Do you intend to make me suffer for it forever?"

"I'm not making you suffer!" she exclaimed. "The only person suffering here is me!"

"You think that this doesn't affect me, don't you? You think I'm completely immune to the feelings I know you're experiencing. You think that it doesn't bother me!"

"If I'm being completely honest, Preston, no I don't think it bothers you," she replied. "You're just keen to get this over with and get back home and get on with our lives. You're not even considering how I feel about doing this!"

"I've thought about nothing else! I'm doing this _for _you!"

"You don't have to _do _anything!" she raged. "It's me who has to lie on that table and be cut open!" She watched as he closed his eyes briefly at her words. "Yes, Preston, that's what's going to happen today! You can't just…shut your eyes and pretend it's not happening!"

"And if you were to have the baby you would be lying on a table being cut open too!" He shouted back at her. "Only it would be in Colorado Springs where the medical care is, quite frankly, less advanced than it is here! You could die!"

"I could die today too!"

"Rebecca, I'm not listening to this," he put up his hand and turned away from her. "We made this decision and I'm not prepared to discuss it further. The appointment is at four-thirty. I am going to be at Doctor Jones' office at that time. You can decide for yourself if you're going to be there or not." He opened the door.

"Where are you going?" she cried.

"I'm going for a walk." With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

XXXX

Preston checked his pocket watch. The hands were just reaching four-thirty. He was standing outside Doctor Jones' office, a rather innocuous looking building in a pleasant part of town. He had been there for ten minutes, hovering anxiously at the door, scanning the street for any sign of Rebecca. He felt sick, nervous and worried, and it wasn't even him that was going to have to undergo the procedure. He thought back to Rebecca's words earlier and wondered if she wasn't at least partly right.

The clock on the building opposite chimed the half hour and he wondered how long he should wait, or what he should do if Rebecca didn't turn up. What would it mean for them? "Preston?" He turned and saw Rebecca standing behind him.

"You're here," he said.

"Yes," she said, looking at the ground.

He stepped towards you, "Are you…?"

"Should we go in?" she raised her chin and looked at him defiantly.

"Yes…" he said, opening the door for her. He followed behind her as she climbed the stairs to the surgery. At the top of the stairs, there was a woman sitting behind a desk. She was older, her hair pulled back in a severe chignon, her features tight and drawn. She looked up as they approached.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Preston stepped forward. "Rebecca Lodge for Doctor Jones."

The woman consulted a sheet of paper in front of her. "Yes, of course." She glanced past him to where Rebecca was standing. "If you'd like to take a seat in the waiting room, Doctor Jones should be with you shortly." She gestured to a door at the end of the corridor.

They made their way down the corridor and into a plush room with comfortable looking chairs and a whisky decanter on the table. Rebecca picked a seat as far away from the door as possible and sat wordlessly down.

"Do you want a drink?" Preston asked, hovering at the decanter.

"No," she replied.

"Well, I think I'll just…" he poured himself a large measure and drank it down in one go before sitting down beside her. "It's rather elegant, isn't it?" Rebecca didn't reply. "I wasn't sure you would come after all."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, but…"

"Mr and Mrs Lodge?" The door opened and a large, portly man with a white beard and glasses was standing there.

Preston got to his feet, "Yes, I'm Preston A Lodge III, and this is my wife, Rebecca."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Doctor Quentin Jones. Would you like to come through?" They stood and followed him back down the corridor, past the older woman, and into a clean, sterile looking room with a bed surrounded by a curtain and a large mahogany desk. "Please sit down," he gestured to the chairs at the other side of the desk. They did as requested. "Now then," he smiled at Rebecca. "You must be the lady in question."

"I suppose," she replied uncertainly.

"There's no need to be worried, my dear. Despite rumour and innuendo, it is a relatively straightforward procedure." He looked at Preston. "I presume that you have…"

"Oh yes," Preston reached into his pocket, extracted his wallet and pulled out a large sheaf of notes which he passed across the table.

"Thank you," Doctor Jones replied, opening a desk drawer and slipping them inside. "Mrs Baker will give you a receipt on the way out." He turned back to Rebecca. "Now I understand that you want the procedure due to a heart condition?"

"Rebecca has been advised by eminent doctors in Boston that carrying a child to term would be needlessly dangerous," Preston said before Rebecca could speak. "Unfortunately, one cannot always control events."

"Indeed," Doctor Jones said. "Then this is a medical necessity."

"Exactly," Preston replied.

He turned to Rebecca again. "Would you like me to explain the procedure to you?" She nodded wordlessly. "You will be unconscious for perhaps half an hour. I'll make an incision in your abdomen and remove the foetus. Afterwards you may feel disoriented for a time so you should rest in bed. You may also experience pain and bleeding but that will reduce over time. And you should visit your own doctor when you return to Colorado Springs so that he can ensure that there are no complications." He smiled at her. "Does all that seem clear?"

"Yes," Rebecca said, her voice barely carrying.

"Good," Doctor Jones got to his feet. "Mr Lodge, if I could ask you to return to the waiting room where I'm sure Mrs Baker can provide more whisky if it's required. Mrs Lodge, if you would like to step over to the bed."

Rebecca got unsteadily to her feet and turned to face Preston. "Well then…" he said, hesitantly. "I suppose I'll…I'll see you afterwards." She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He bent and kissed her perfunctorily on the cheek before hurrying out the door as quickly as possible and closing it behind him.

"Don't worry my dear," Doctor Jones said again as she made her way over to the bed. "It will all be over before you know it."

XXXX

Preston closed the door of the room behind it and leaned back against it briefly feeling rather light headed himself, having seen sight of Doctor Jones' instruments lying innocently on the shelf by the door. It had been one of the biggest knives he had ever seen.

"Are you all right?" He opened his eyes to see Mrs Baker eying him from her desk.

"Fine, thank you," he replied, straightening his cravat. "Absolutely fine." He started to walk back down the corridor towards the waiting room.

"Would you like some more whisky?" she called after him.

"Yes," he replied, "yes I would." Back in the waiting room he sank down into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. He tried not to think about what would be happening in the room.

"Here you are," Mrs Baker announced her arrival. He looked up to see her placing a fresh decanter on the table.

"Thank you," he replied faintly.

She looked at him sympathetically. "She's in very good hands. Doctor Jones is an excellent physician."

"Yes I know."

"She'll be a fit as a fiddle in no time. Most of them are."

Preston latched onto her last sentence. "_Most _of them are?"

Mrs Baker looked annoyed with herself. "Don't worry. I'm sure that everything will be fine."

"But you said _most _of them are fit as a fiddle in no time," he said, getting to his feet. "Does that mean that some of them aren't?"

"Forgive me," she said, backing out of the room, "I shouldn't have said…"

"No, wait!" he reached out and grabbed her arm, causing her to gasp. "I'm sorry," he said, loosening his grip, "but I need to know."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Some women find it difficult to overcome," she said slowly. "The loss of a child is painful enough without knowing that you made the decision yourself. I have known some who…who have driven themselves mad with grief over it. Then there are those for whom…physically…"

Preston swallowed hard, "Physically?"

"I shouldn't have said anything," she turned and walked briskly back down the corridor. "It's not my business."

"I know that there is a risk," he said, following her, "there is with any surgery…"

"This is different," she said, sitting down slowly. "You have to know that this is different."

Preston turned back to the closed door, behind which Rebecca lay, being cut open, her blood perhaps spilling onto the floor, while the doctor put his hands inside her, not to bring life, but to end it. In his minds eye, he could see her, angry, grief-stricken, perhaps never the same again and he had forced her to do it. Had paid for it to be done.

Without further hesitation, he threw open the door. The curtain was drawn around the bed and he strode over, pulling it back, startling Doctor Jones in the process.

"What on earth…?" he exclaimed, knife in hand

"Stop!" Preston exclaimed. "I want this to stop!" He looked at Rebecca, unconscious on the bed, dressed only in her slip, her stomach exposed. He hurried round the bed and proceeded to drag her into his arms.

"Mr Lodge!" Doctor Jones said, "You cannot just burst in here…"

"I've changed my mind," Preston said, hitching her up in his arms. "I don't want her to have this operation."

"But…I'm about to begin!"

"No you're not," Preston retorted. "I'm not having you…butcher my wife! I'd rather she take her chances with the pregnancy!" He saw Rebecca's dress, laid neatly over the chair, but decided to leave it. He could buy her another one. He could buy her another ten. He just wanted her out of this room.

"You've already made payment!"

"You can keep it." Preston made for the door.

"Mr Lodge!" he stopped and turned back to face the doctor. "You realise you're putting her life at great risk by proceeding with this pregnancy!"

"I understand that," Preston said, swallowing hard, "but I'd rather that than this." With that, he left, sweeping out into the corridor, past a startled looking Mrs Baker, and down the stairs to the main entrance. He hailed a carriage as best he could and took Rebecca back to the hotel, where he put her in bed and waited for her to come around.

It was over an hour later when she stirred and he hurried to the side of the bed and knelt beside her, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, he smiled and pushed her hair back from her face. "Hello," he said gently.

She looked at him, slightly confused, "Where am I?"

"Back at the hotel," he replied, "everything's going to be fine."

"Is it over?" she asked. "I don't…I don't feel any pain…"

Preston clasped her hand in his, "You didn't have the procedure." She frowned. "I…I couldn't let…" he trailed off as emotion threatened to overtake him. "I think it's for the best." He met her gaze.

"You mean…I still have the baby?"

"Yes my darling," he said, "you still have the baby." He saw tears spring into her eyes and he reached over and buried his face in her neck. "My wonderful Rebecca…" He climbed onto the bed beside her and lay over the covers, pulling her down to rest against him.

"Why did you change your mind?" Rebecca asked after a long silence.

"Well," he said, "I was waiting in that room and…thinking about what was going to happen and…" he didn't want to mention the conversation with Mrs Baker, "and I just couldn't let you go through with it." He squeezed her tightly. "I'm sorry. I should never have made you come here."

"I came of my own free will," she said.

"No you didn't," he said, "not really. You did it to keep me happy. I could see, even on the train, how much you wanted the baby."

"That's true," she said, "I did. I do. But I was prepared to do this to make you happy."

Preston sighed heavily, "I'm not sure it would have ultimately made me happy to know you had done something which made _you_ so _un_happy."

Rebecca craned her neck back and looked up at him. "I'm sure that…with Michaela's help…everything will be fine. I want this baby so much, Preston. I know I'll be a good mother and you'll be a wonderful father."

He lowered his head and kissed her. "I'm sure that's true."

She could see the slight uncertainty in his eyes. "You're still worried, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't love you, I wouldn't be your husband if I wasn't worried about the effect this might have on you."

"Would it make you feel any better if I stopped working at the store?"

"I'll confess it would. I don't want you doing anything too strenuous. Your body will be under enough strain with the baby without doing anything extra."

She smiled, "Then I promise to take things easy. I can still do bits and bobs at the hotel and maybe help you out at the bank…what?" she stopped. "What's so amusing?"

"I think you should concentrate on doing the most important job of all," he said, "looking after our child." She took his hand and brought it under the covers to rest against her still flat stomach. "I can't feel anything," he said after a moment.

"Not yet," she replied with a smile, "but soon."

"Soon," he echoed, gathering her to him, hoping and praying that he had done the right thing.


	37. Chapter 37

**Thanks so much for all the reviews and support. I am so pleased!! Here's the next exciting installment and beware the smut!**

**February 14****th**** 1872**

Rebecca woke on Valentine's Day morning feeling peaceful and serene. As she lay watching dawn break and the sunlight filter in through the curtains, she knew she had never felt happier. She thought back to the previous year and how she had been so looking forward to marrying Preston. So much so that she thought she could never be happier than she was on that day. But she knew now, she had been wrong.

She was now ten weeks pregnant, and everything had been going well. There had been no attacks, for which both she and Preston were grateful, and all she could think about was the day their baby would be born. As promised, she had given up working at the store, contenting herself by overseeing matters at the hotel and occasionally helping Preston in the bank. Not that he had always welcomed it.

"Rebecca, I really think you should leave," he had said to her in an exasperated tone only a week earlier.

"Why?" she had asked, confused and concerned. "Am I not doing it right? Have I don't something wrong?"

"No," he had reassured her, "but you are proving too much of a distraction for me."

"Distraction?"

"Indeed. I find it difficult to keep my eyes off of you and, consequently, my hands." She had blushed like a schoolgirl and left to allow him to get on with his work in peace, delighted that, despite her gently swelling stomach, he still found her to be attractive.

As if on cue, Preston rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes. "Good morning," he mumbled sleepily.

"Good morning," she replied. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Is that what today is?" he replied. "I had forgotten."

"No you hadn't," she said, burrowing down under the bedclothes and sliding nearer to him. "You know fine well what day it is."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "I can't fool you, can I?"

"No, you can't," she said, pushing herself against him and kissing him longingly. He responded to her, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes and tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, causing her to shiver. He kissed across her chin, down under her throat, across her collarbone and then lower, gently prising open the ribbon at the nape of her neck and easing one flap of her nightshirt to one side, exposing her swollen breast. He kissed down the flesh, his tongue finding her nipple and swirling around it tantalisingly. Rebecca gasped and instinctively arched her back towards him, heat flooding her abdomen.

"I want you," he murmured, moving back up her body to her mouth, his hand replacing where his mouth had been.

"I want you too," she whispered in response, surprised at the depth of her desire. Despite innuendo, it was the first time Preston had engineered relations since she had discovered that she was pregnant. The first few weeks, they had been walking around each other in a slight state of shock at the fact that they were actually going to have a child, neither one seemingly equipped to celebrate it in that way.

Preston ran his hand down over her breast, down her ribcage and over her stomach where he abruptly paused and lifted his mouth from hers. "Ummm…" he said.

"What is it?" she asked, breathlessly.

"I don't want to…I mean…" he stuttered. "I don't want to hurt you or the baby."

Rebecca felt an overwhelming rush of love, touched that he should be so concerned when most men would simply claim their conjugal rights without question. "You won't," she reassured him gently. "Not if you're gentle with me."

"Aren't I always gentle with you?" he questioned, seemingly taken aback by her comment.

"Of course," she replied, "but just be extra-specially gentle." He continued to hesitate. "Preston," she urged. "Please."

He kissed her again, more passionately this time and she responded with equal ardour. She fought herself free from her nightshirt and pressed against him, delighting in the feel of her naked flesh against his, the feeling of her breasts crushed against his chest. Her hands slid down to his pants and she slipped her fingers inside, feeling him harden at her touch. He shuddered against her, "Rebecca…"

"My darling…" she whispered, pushing the material down as his fingers slipped inside her own briefs and felt her wetness. "Preston…" she gasped his name, pressing her abdomen upwards against his hand. He continued to stroke her, watching as the expression on her face grew more and more rapturous and her breathing became shallow. "Please…" she breathed, "please…"

He removed his hand and gently eased her thighs apart, sliding up her body and kissing her waiting mouth. Before he lowered himself down though, he paused again.

"Preston…" Rebecca groaned in frustration.

"You won't be able to take my weight," he reasoned, though he wasn't sure how given the intense pulsation in his groin.

"I will, my darling, I will," she tried to reassure him. "I can't wait…please…"

"I'm not sure…" "With a frustrated groan, all thoughts of telling him to be gentle flying from her mind, Rebecca placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him roughly over so that he was lying on his back and she was straddling him. "Rebecca!" he exclaimed, shocked and extremely turned on at the same time. Before he could say anything else, she had lowered herself down onto him, groaning in the process. She threw her head back, taking his hands in hers and lifting them to her breasts. Preston watched in shocked surprise as she moved against him, feeling pleasure flood his own body at the feel and sight of her. He moved his hands over her breasts, then down over her stomach and around her hips, gripping her tightly so that she moved just where he needed her to.

All of a sudden, Rebecca threw herself forward, gripping onto the metal headboard, her hair falling forward into his face. "Preston…" she gasped, "Oh my darling…my darling…"

Preston pushed her hair back, desperate to see the look on her face. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks reddened, her mouth forming an 'o' of pleasure. He moved his fingers over her lips and then cupped her face with his hand and she turned her face into his palm, biting down momentarily on his flesh. Then she let out a cry and he knew that she was close to her climax. She started to move harder and faster against him and he found his heart racing, his body starting to shake, his mind starting to go blank. He came first, spurting inside her then, moments later, she followed, crying out his name before collapsing on top of him. They lay like that for a few moments, both gasping for air, before Rebecca rolled slowly off him and over onto her back.

"Rebecca…" Preston said, when he had found his voice, "you are quite…wanton."

She laughed, "I suppose I am."

He looked over at her, "Where on earth did you learn…that?"

She met his gaze and merely raised her eyebrows, "Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

XXXX

"Must you go?" she asked an hour later as he finished dressing. He turned to look at her, lying under the covers, her arms stretched languorously above her head, her eyes shining.

"I'm afraid so," he replied, though he genuinely wished he didn't have to, knowing as he did that she was still naked. "I have an important meeting this morning."

"With who?"

"A very important gentleman who may be able to send some very influential business our way," he replied. "It'll be good for the hotel." She pouted slightly and he laughed. "You can't expect me to stay here with you all day."

"Why not?" she asked with a slow smile. "Are my charms not enticing enough?"

Preston laughed again and sat down on the edge of the bed, "They are more than enticing, my darling. In fact, I do believe you've quite worn me out. I need to go to work to recover."

"Well, if you must…" she sighed.

He bent and kissed her gently, "I have a surprise for you this evening."

"What surprise?" Rebecca asked.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now, would it?" He got to his feet and moved to the bedroom door. "I'll pick you up at six o'clock sharp."

"Wait a moment!" she exclaimed, sitting up quickly, causing the covers to fall from her body and expose her breasts. "You have to tell me more than that!"

With a groan, Preston strode back across the room and gathered her into his arms, kissing her passionately, one hand trailing to cup her right breast. "I'm not telling you another thing," he replied breathlessly, pulling back from her. "I will see you at six." Before she could tempt him further, he left the room, closing the door purposefully behind him.

Rebecca lay back down on the bed and sighed contentedly. If it was possible, she felt even happier than she had felt an hour earlier. She dosed for another twenty minutes and then got up, washed, dressed and made her way downstairs. She made herself some coffee and then spent some time replying to correspondence she had received from Louisa and her aunt in Boston. Then she checked what groceries she needed and stepped outside to hitch up the surrey, only to find that Preston had already done it for her. She smiled to herself as she climbed inside and made her way into town.

"Mornin' Rebecca," Loren greeted her as she entered the store.

"Good morning Loren," she replied cheerfully wandering around and purchasing what she needed, including a box of cigars for Preston, even though she hated the things.

"You're looking very happy," Loren commented as she took her purchases to the desk.

"I suppose I am," she replied with a smile. He looked at her suspiciously. "I'm surprised the entire town doesn't know." She leaned forward. "I'm having a baby."

Loren's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "A baby?!"

"Yes Loren," she laughed, "a baby."

"Is that…you know…safe?" he asked.

"Loren…" she groaned, "I wish that at least one person would be happy when I told them as opposed to everyone questioning the effect it might have on my health."

"Sorry."

"It's all right," she said, knowing there was little that could dampen her mood. She handed over the money. "Happy Valentine's Day." Before he could say anything else, she swept out and bumped headlong into Matthew.

"Rebecca!" he exclaimed.

"Matthew," she said. There was a slight awkward silence. "I haven't seen you for a while. How are you?"

"Fine," he replied. "And you?"

"I'm very well, thank you." She saw his eyes flicker to her stomach and she instinctively placed one hand over it. "The baby too."

"Yeah, I heard you didn't…you know…"

"No."

"Well I'm…" he paused, "happy for you and Preston."

"Thank you," she said softly.

There was another awkward silence and he shuffled his feet. "Well, I should be…"

"Of course," Rebecca said, "well…take care."

"And you," he replied. He moved past her and then turned back. "Rebecca?"

She turned back to face him, "Yes?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Rebecca felt her cheeks redden slightly, "And to you, Matthew."

XXXX

Preston pinched the skin between his eyebrows as he felt a headache starting. He had been engaged in talks with Walter Mason for the best part of two hours and it hadn't gone as well as he had expected. Mason was an influential businessman from New York keen to find a location where he and his not insignificant family could spend a month every summer. Preston knew that if he was able to secure Mason's patronage that there could be other influential families who may also choose the Spring Chateau as their summer destination.

They had started with a tour of the hotel and the grounds followed by a sumptuous lunch and were now dealing with the finer points of the potential arrangement. Mason was proving a difficult man to please.

"It's a nice enough location Mr Lodge," he said, "but I'm just not sure that it meets all of our needs."

"Well," Preston said, "perhaps if you could give me a better idea of what your needs are then I might be able to do my best to fulfil them."

"My wife is extremely particular."

Preston waited. "Yes?"

"She's not one of these women content to simply sit around and look pleasing on the eye."

"I confess my wife is the same."

Mason peered at him, "No?"

"No indeed. Rebecca is very…independent," Preston felt a warm glow just thinking about her and their activities that morning.

"Sarah is the same. As are my children. They need to be kept amused constantly and, I have to confess, your hot springs will not be able to sustain them for the period of time we're talking about."

"I see," Preston said.

"Do you have children, Mr Lodge?"

"My wife is expecting our first."

"Then you will soon have first-hand experience of what I'm referring to." Mason paused. "I do believe I would like to meet your wife."

Preston looked at him, "You would?"

"Yes, I would," he replied decisively. "Why don't we have dinner this evening? I can ask her for a woman's perspective on living here and it might help me to convince Sarah that your resort is the perfect one for our family."

"Well…" Preston paused, thinking of the surprise he had been planning for her that evening, weighing up his desire to spend the evening alone with her against the possibility of securing Mason's patronage.

"Unless there's a problem with that," Mason said, interrupting his reverie.

"Not at all," Preston replied, hastily coming to a decision, "I'm sure she'll be delighted."

XXXX

At quarter to six, Rebecca was just finishing pinning up her hair when she heard the sound of a horse approaching and looked out to see Preston hurriedly riding up to the house. Casting a final look at herself in the mirror, she made her way downstairs just as he was coming in the front door.

"You're early," she chided him. "Luckily for you I'm ready ahead of schedule."

He stepped forward and took her into his arms, "You look sensational my darling," he murmured.

"Thank you," she replied, pulling back and kissing him. "I've been on tenterhooks all day wondering about this surprise."

"Ah, yes…well…" he hesitated.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm afraid there's been a slight change of plan," he confessed. "My meeting with Walter Mason didn't go as smoothly as expected and he insisted on having dinner with you before he made his decision."

"Me?" He nodded. "But…what about our evening together?"

"There's always tomorrow night, my love. The surprise can wait another evening," he replied. "This is a crucial stage in the negotiations."

"But it's Valentine's Day _tonight,_" she protested pettily.

"I'm aware of that, Rebecca," he replied, "but this is extremely important. If we can secure Mason's patronage…"

"Then it will benefit _you._"

"It will benefit _us_," he insisted. "The business that Mason can send our way has the potential to be phenomenal."

"Why does business always have to come before us?" she asked.

"It doesn't."

"It does."

"I don't want to get into a petty argument with you," Preston said angrily. "We are having dinner with Mason and that is the end of it."

Rebecca bit back an angry retort and they rode in stony silence in the surrey to the hotel. The place was lively and a part of her was pleased to see that business was going well, but she was still smarting at having been sidelined in favour of it.

Preston brought the surrey to a halt outside the hotel and then helped her down. As she alighted, her attention was drawn to a figure standing to one side and saw, to her surprise, that Matthew was standing talking to Andrew. He seemed to sense her gaze and turned in time to see her. Before she could make any sign of greeting, however, Preston, led her into the hotel and into the lounge where Walter Mason was sitting in the far corner.

"Mr Mason!" he greeted him heartily.

"Mr Lodge," Mason got to his feet. "This must be your delightful wife."

Rebecca put on her best smile, "Mr Mason, I'm Rebecca Lodge. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you," he replied, kissing her hand. "And please call me Walter."

"Walter."

"You look very lovely this evening," Mason continued, "Mr Lodge, your wife is quite stunning."

"Yes she is," Preston replied, smiling at Rebecca.

"I'm delighted you agreed to dinner this evening," Mason said. "I realise it's an imposition at short notice."

"Not at all," Rebecca replied.

"Shall we go through to the dining room?" Preston suggested. The party made their way in to the best table where he pulled out the chair for her and they sat down.

"I was talking to your husband earlier about the resort," Mason said, "my concern was that my wife and family wouldn't find enough here to occupy their time. I was interested to hear a woman's opinion."

"Well," Rebecca said, "Colorado Springs is small, but there is plenty to do. Aside, of course, from the hot springs there are plenty of trails to explore. We also have our own mountain, Pike's Peak, which several townsfolk have climbed. Soda Springs and Denver are also only a short train ride away which would make the hotel a perfect base."

"Hmm…" Mason said as their starters arrived at the table. "That does sound promising. But I have a family of women used to frequenting fine salons."

"Well, to be honest, we don't have any of those near here," Rebecca confessed, "but if your family was looking for something different then I don't think you could beat this area and, consequently, our hotel." She looked over at Preston as she spoke and he smiled faintly at her. On impulse, she reached over and squeezed his hand in an attempt at an apology and, to her relief, he squeezed it back.

Mason appeared thoughtful for the rest of the meal and, as coffee was served, Rebecca excused herself as she was starting to feel slightly light-headed, caused in no small part from the strong cigars both men were smoking.

"Are you all right?" Preston asked quietly as he and Mason stood up.

"I'm fine," she replied. "I'll only be a moment." She made her way out of the dining room and into the lobby before stepping out the door onto the veranda where she took a deep breath in.

"Not exactly what I figured Preston would have planned for Valentine's Day." She turned and saw Matthew standing a few feet away.

"Something came up," she replied abruptly. "We would have been alone but…"

"He needed to impress someone?"

"It's not like that," she replied angrily.

"Course it ain't," Matthew replied and she realised from his manner that he had been drinking. "Seeing as you seem to think he's so wonderful…"

"He _is _wonderful," she retorted. "I'm sorry that, as a friend, you can't simply be happy for me."

"Oh yeah, cause a wonderful husband would try and force his wife to get rid of their child."

Rebecca glanced around to see who might have heard before stepping over towards him, "How dare you! You know _nothing _about that!"

"I know you went all the way to Denver to get it done."

"And I didn't!"

"And who changed their mind, Rebecca? Did you put your foot down or did you wait until Preston changed his mind?"

"I'll forgive you for what you're saying because you're clearly drunk," she said, coldly. "You should go home, Matthew." She turned on her heel and started to walk away.

"Maybe you should have thought twice after our kiss!" He called after her.

Rebecca froze and was about to turn around and confront him when she saw the last person she had wanted to witness the exchange.

Preston's expression was thunderous yet his eyes were pained and his voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly measured. "What kiss might this be?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Thanks for all the reviews - it's so great to read them all and thank you for taking the time to write them and become so invested in the story! So...Preston's reaction....**

"Preston!" Rebecca exclaimed. "I didn't see…"

"I was concerned," he said, "I wanted to make sure that you were all right." He looked past her to Matthew. "But I see you have company."

"Matthew and I were just…"

"Please go back to the table, Rebecca," Preston interrupted without looking at her. "Our guest is waiting."

Rebecca paused momentarily, feeling rooted to the spot, and then forced herself to move past him back inside the hotel. Preston remained where he was, staring at Matthew, feeling as though he would like to kill him.

"That's right, we kissed," Matthew said spiritedly. "Damn nice it was too." He grinned drunkenly at Preston. "Go ahead then. Hit me, Preston, you know you want to."

He wanted to. There was nothing Preston would have liked more than to demonstrate his boxing skills on Matthew's face. Knowing that the other man's hands had been on his wife, his mouth exploring hers…but something inside him made him restrain himself. Instead, he simply straightened his cravat, shot Matthew a contemptuous look and went back inside. When he approached the door of the dining room he saw Rebecca and Mason at the table, the latter talking, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Rebecca clearly wasn't listening to him. As though sensing him, she turned and met his gaze, her eyes wide with fear.

He made his way back towards the table, Rebecca's gaze still on him. When he reached them he could see she was trembling slightly. "I'm sorry about that," he said, sitting back down.

"Everything all right?" Mason asked.

"Fine," Preston replied tightly, draining his wine glass, "absolutely fine."

The atmosphere was somewhat strained for the rest of the evening until they rose from the table. Preston suggested coffee but Mason declined. "No thank you," he replied. "I'm going to turn in early. I've a lot of thinking to do." He turned to Rebecca. "Mrs Lodge, it's been a pleasure." He kissed her hand again then shook Preston's. "Good night Mr Lodge."

"Good night," Preston said. There was a tense silence as Mason walked away from the table, leaving them alone together.

"Preston…" Rebecca said.

"Not here," he replied curtly, striding away from her, causing her to scurry to keep up with him. He strode outside to where the surrey was waiting and climbed in, barely waiting for her to be helped in by one of the staff, before moving the horse forward.

Rebecca wasn't sure how to start the conversation. She opened her mouth to say something on more than one occasion but found the words wouldn't come out. She knew she hadn't done anything wrong when it came to what had happened with Matthew, but a part of her felt guilty for not telling him before.

"When did this happen?" Preston suddenly asked, his voice tightly controlled.

She looked over at him, but he kept his gaze on the road ahead. "Last month."

"When _exactly?_"

"The night I told you that I had made no attempt to prevent my pregnancy."

"I see," he clenched his jaw. "_Where _did it happen?"

"At home."

"In our home?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Preston…"

"In the yard? In the kitchen? In our bedroom?"

"Does it really…?"

"Yes!"

"In the kitchen," she said with a sigh. "It was in the kitchen. After you left, Matthew came by with my digitalis and I was upset because of our fight and…"

"So you decided to divulge sensitive, personal information about _our _marriage to the local sheriff." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"It wasn't like that," she replied. "He was trying to comfort me and then he said…things."

"What things?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Preston exclaimed. "I want to know exactly what he said to you."

"Why?"

He looked at her angrily, "Tell me!"

"He told me that if it were his child he would never ask me to do what you were suggesting. He told me he would want to protect me and the baby and then…then he suggested that we run away together. Then he kissed me." She looked at him. "That's what happened, Preston, _he _kissed _me_. I didn't kiss him. I didn't want to kiss him."

"Then he assaulted you."

Rebecca paused, "No…"

"Then you were willing?"

"No!"

"Then tell me, Rebecca, because I'm finding it difficult to understand," he said, pulling Thunder to a halt as they reached the house. "Not only the fact you and Matthew kissed, but also the fact that you found it to be so unimportant as to not see any need to tell me about it!" He climbed out of the surrey and around to her side. "And that I had to find out about it from Matthew who was clearly intoxicated and relishing the prospect of telling me!" He lifted her out of the surrey, mid-rant, and placed her on the ground.

Rebecca looked at the ground, "I'm sorry. I should have told you, but…"

"Yes you should have!" Preston replied, storming away from her up the steps and into the house.

Rebecca followed at a slower pace and when she entered the living room, saw that he was pacing in front of the fire. "Preston, it meant nothing. The moment that he kissed me I knew what I've known all along; that there could never be anything between Matthew and I because I don't feel for him what I feel for you."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was so…so meaningless and…and I didn't want to hurt you." Her words sounded hollow as she realised that by not telling him, she had done exactly that. She stepped towards him. "Preston, I am so, so sorry…"

"Spare me your apologies!" he spat, pushing past her and storming out of the room. She followed him as he made his way into the kitchen and started roaming around the room like an animal caged up and itching to be set free, banging various objects, whatever he could find. "How _dare_ he put his hands on you!" he raged. "How _dare_ he put his filthy…"

"Preston, please," she begged him, "please calm down." Her words were drowned out as he lifted a cup and threw it at the far wall, causing it to smash into pieces. "Preston!" He placed his hands on the kitchen table and pressed hard against them, lowering his head between his stretched arms, as though trying to push away the images, the hurt and the pain that she knew her actions had, in some way, caused him. She stepped gingerly towards him until she was standing beside him. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his arm, causing him to start and look at her. "You have to believe me," she said, "it was just the silly action of a boy with a crush. It meant absolutely nothing to me. You have to know that." She reached up and put her hand against his cheek. "I love you so much, Preston…Do you really think I could have given myself to you this morning the way I did if I didn't?"

He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into her palm for a long moment, allowing her to run her thumb gently over his cheekbone. Then he opened his eyes again and met her gaze. "Tell me one thing," he said in a low voice.

"Anything."

"Is it my child?"

Rebecca froze, unsure if she had heard right. "What?

"Tell me the truth," he said, his tone almost begging. "Is it my child?"

"What exactly are you suggesting?" she spluttered, snatching her hand back.

"I need to know," he said, his voice quivering slightly. "I need to know if it's my child or his that you're carrying."

Rebecca felt physically sick. She stepped back from him, her expression one of shock, unable to believe what he had just said. "How dare you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "How _dare_ you suggestthat I've been with any other man except you. I have been honest and faithful to you from the _moment_ you declared your intentions to me. I have never even _considered_ anyone else. You are the only man I have _ever_ lain with…" She broke off, her hand moving to her stomach. "How could you even think that I would do such a thing and then wilfully deceive you?" She quickly turned away from him to leave the room, but all of a sudden felt the familiar blackness start to descend on her and she clutched hold of the doorframe for support.

"I don't know what to think!" Preston replied, clearly unaware of her predicament. "I never imagined for one moment that you would keep something like this from me!"

"And that automatically means that I…I must have lain with another man?" she queried, fighting to keep her balance. She could almost hear her heartbeat slowing in her ears, her breathing becoming more rapid, her chest tightening…

"Of course not," he replied, "but you not telling me this makes me wonder what else you haven't told me!" Rebecca turned back towards the kitchen table, knowing that she would feel better if she could just sit down and take some digitalis. "A relationship has to be built on trust, Rebecca, and right now…"

"Preston…" she said, reaching out to catch the edge of the table. "Preston, I need…"

"Are you all right?" he peered at her curiously.

"No," she replied, grabbing the table. She made to take hold of the nearest chair, but missed, and crumpled to her knees.

"Rebecca!" he was instantly at her side, his arm wrapped around her waist, helping her up. "Can you stand?"

"I don't…" she trailed off, trying to stop the ringing in her ears. "If I sit…" She didn't finish the sentence as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted.

Preston caught her in his arms, "Rebecca! Darling, look at me!" There was no response and he hitched her up and carried her through to the living room where he placed her gently down in the chair. "Rebecca?" Her eyes remained closed so he rushed back into the kitchen, trying to remember where she kept the digitalis. He started pulling drawers open, his eyes scanning to find the all important vial. Eventually, he found it and he ran back to the living room. When he reached his wife, he saw that her eyelids were fluttering. "Rebecca?" he crouched in front of her. "Rebecca, open your eyes!"

With seemingly great effort, she forced her eyes open. "Preston…?"

"It's all right," he reassured her. "It's all right, I've got your digitalis. Do you want to take some?" Letting out a long breath, she pushed herself up in her seat and reached out a shaking hand for the vial. She couldn't get the top off and he took it from her. As he did so, she curled her fingers around his. He met her gaze and saw how frightened she looked. "Here," he opened it for her and passed it back. She took a couple of drops and then passed it back to him. He recapped it and laid it down on the coffee table. When he turned back to her, she burst into tears. "Rebecca…" he pulled her into her arms and held her against him while she sobbed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry." When her sobs quietened, he pulled back and pushed her hair away from her face. "That's the first attack you've had since becoming pregnant," he put into words her own thoughts. She nodded. "I should ride for Michaela."

"No," she replied faintly. "No, I'm fine. I just…" she let out a shaky breath. "I'll feel better in a moment or two."

"You should lie down."

"I thought you might ask me to leave."

"Of course not," he paused, clearly struggling for words. "I should never have suggested…well…it was unforgivable."

Rebecca wiped her eyes. "Yes it was," she replied.

"You are the only woman I have ever truly loved and…and the day that we married and I made you mine…" he paused again. "The thought…of any other man…with his hands on you…"

Rebecca put her head in her hands and started crying again. "It wasn't like that…I promise you that it wasn't like that."

"I know, my darling of course I know." He reached out and pulled her hands away from her face. "I accept what you've said about what took place. I accept that it was Matthew's doing and not yours."

"Then why suggest that our child might not be yours?" she asked, tears pouring down her cheeks again.

"I'm sorry. I should never have suggested…it was wrong of me, so very wrong. Please, my darling, please forgive me." He took her face in his hands. "Please…I couldn't bear it if you said you couldn't." She nodded mutely and he pulled her into his arms again, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, nose and finally her mouth.

Rebecca responded briefly and then rested her head against his shoulder, "I'm so tired," she murmured.

"You should get to bed," he said. "If you're not any better in the morning, I'm going to get Michaela." She didn't resist as he lifted her up in his arms again and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom where he laid her gently down on the bed. Her fingers started to try and unhook her buttons but she fumbled so much that he stepped in to help her. Pulling her dress down he reached for her nightshirt which was under her pillow and made to put it over her head when he paused and saw that her hands were over her stomach, gently stroking it. "Rebecca?"

She looked up and met his gaze, "I'm going to die, Preston."

Shocked by her words, he couldn't speak for a moment, "No you're not," he said firmly, "it was just one little attack. It doesn't mean anything." He could tell that she didn't believe him. "I am not going to let anything happen to you." Her lip trembled and her eyes filled up. "Darling, you just need to rest. Come on now," he helped her into her nightshirt and then pulled back the covers to help her into the bed. Moments later, she was asleep. He sat by the side of the bed watching her sleep, before eventually climbing in beside her and pulling her back against him, placing one of his hands over her stomach. He could hardly believe that the child he had been so determined to get rid of, he was now so determined to keep safe.

XXXX

Rebecca slept late the following morning, waking only when Preston came into the room with breakfast. She felt so utterly exhausted that it was all she could do to open her eyes and look at him. "What time is it?" she mumbled.

"Early," he told her, placing the tray next to the bed and perching on the edge. He pushed her hair back from her eyes, "How do you feel?"

"Tired," she replied honestly. "Very tired." Pushing herself up in the bed, she let out a long breath. "I'm sorry but I don't think I can eat anything."

"You have to keep your strength up," he told her.

"Preston…"

"Rebecca, I won't hear any more defeatist talk," he warned her. "You're going to be fine. I'm going to go and see Michaela and tell her what happened and have her come out and take a look at you. I want you to stay in bed until I get back."

"But she won't be there yet," Rebecca said.

"I have a couple of other things to do," he replied, "but I'll be back as soon as I can, all right?" She nodded and he bent to kiss her. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied.

He left the house and rode into town, knowing full well that Michaela wouldn't be at the clinic but also knowing that someone else would already be in town. He stopped outside the Sheriff's office, tied Thunder up and then knocked smartly at the door. It only took seconds for Matthew to open it. "Ah, good morning Sheriff," Preston greeted him.

"Preston."

"Not that I think you'll hold that position for much longer."

Matthew looked at him suspiciously, "Why's that?"

"Well, I'm not too sure that the people of this town would feel comfortable knowing that the man entrusted to uphold the law took liberties when it came to its female citizens," Preston looked at him. "What do you think?"

"I think that I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the fact that you thought it entirely acceptable to put your hands on my wife. My _pregnant_ wife."

Matthew looked uncomfortable, "Look, Preston…I don't really remember much about what happened at the hotel last night…"

"Well, thankfully I do," Preston replied, "as does Rebecca. Quite frankly we were both shocked and horrified by your actions, especially Rebecca, given that she considered you to be a friend."

"I _am _her friend."

"I don't believe the definition of 'friend' includes one person grabbing the other and forcing themselves on them."

Matthew stared at him, "I didn't force myself…"

"So you say, so you say," Preston interrupted dismissively, "but I say otherwise and so does Rebecca and we feel that others in the community should know exactly what kind of a man their Sheriff is."

"Rebecca would never say anything like that," Matthew replied.

"Forgive me, but I don't think you really know her as well as you think you do. I believe _I'm_ the best person to judge what Rebecca would and would not say. She's been left quite distressed by the whole incident and what with the pregnancy and her condition…which has been exacerbated by your actions to the point where she had an attack last night."

Matthew looked shocked, "Is she all right?"

"She's fine, no thanks to you."

"What do you want?"

Preston stepped closer to him, his tone now serious. "I want you to stay away from my wife. I don't want you to look at her, talk to her and I especially don't want you to touch her. If I see you so much as glance in her direction, I will make sure that you are run out of this town, and I'll also see to it personally that your…youthful good looks…are never the same again. Doctor Quinn or no Doctor Quinn. Do I make myself clear?"

Matthew swallowed hard, "You can't tell Rebecca who she can and can't be friends with."

"I think you'll find I can," Preston replied. "You see Matthew, Rebecca is in love with _me. _It's _me_ she comes to for help. It's _me_ who has the honour of touching her and holding her and making love to her. It's _my _bed she sleeps in at night and it's _my _child nestled warmly inside her. You never so much as had a chance with her and, even if you had, the time has long since passed. I suggest you direct your attentions elsewhere." He stepped back and smiled superiorly at him. "I'm sure there are still some immigrants and whores you haven't worked your way through yet." With that, he closed the door firmly behind him.


	39. Chapter 39

**Wow, I confess to jumping up and down with glee when I see all the reviews!! Thanks so much everyone!! Here's the next exciting chapter!! Please review :)**

**May 1872**

"Everything sounds fine," Michaela said, lifting her stethoscope from Rebecca's expanding stomach. "I can hear a strong heartbeat."

"Oh that's good," Rebecca said, "I'm so glad. I can't help but worry about whether or not the baby's ok." She was now six months pregnant and her stomach seemed to be growing every day. The baby had started to move and it still gave her a thrill to feel it inside her and know that it was her child.

"I remember the feeling," Michaela smiled. "How are you feeling generally?"

"Fine," Rebecca replied.

"You're sure?" Michaela queried.

"Yes, of course."

Michaela glanced at Preston who was sitting in the corner and then back at her patient. "Have you been worrying about having more attacks?"

Rebecca shrugged, "I suppose…"

"Well you haven't had any more since that last one on Valentine's Day have you?" Rebecca didn't reply.

Preston stood up and stepped forward, "Rebecca?"

She let out a sigh. "I had one a few nights ago."

Preston stared at her, "Well why in God's name didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was only a small one," she replied. "I didn't lose consciousness and after a few drops of digitalis I felt fine." She looked at him. "There seemed little point in worrying you."

"Rebecca," Preston said, his tone one of clear irritation, "how am I supposed to look after you if you don't tell me when you're unwell?!"

"Is that the only other attack you've had since becoming pregnant?" Michaela asked keen to avoid marital warfare in the clinic.

"Yes," Rebecca replied.

"Then I'm sure that it's nothing to worry about. If you were having them frequently then I think there would be cause for alarm. But as it stands…"

"I should have realised," Preston said. "You've been very tired of late."

"But that's surely normal," Rebecca looked at Michaela, "All expectant mothers get tired, don't they?"

"Of course they do," she reassured her, "but you must be honest if you feel any of the symptoms of your condition and tell me if you have any more attacks."

Rebecca nodded, "I know and I will." She stood up and turned to her husband. "If we want to have lunch before your meeting this afternoon, darling, I suggest we go now." She didn't want to talk any more about her condition and the effect that the pregnancy was having on her.

"Of course," he replied. "Thank you Michaela."

"Yes, thank you," Rebecca echoed.

"You're welcome," Michaela replied, walking them to the door. "Rebecca?"

"Yes?" she turned back.

"Before you go…I was wondering…I was wondering if you had spoken to Matthew recently?"

Rebecca paused and glanced at Preston before meeting her friend's gaze, "Well I…no, not recently. Is there a problem?" She wasn't sure how much, if anything, Michaela knew about Matthew's feelings for her or what had happened between them.

"No, I'm sure it's nothing," Michaela said quickly, "but he's seemed so irrational of late that I thought…well I thought he might have confided in you. Though I noticed that the two of you don't seem to talk as much lately."

"Rebecca has much more concerning things to occupy her time with than the day-to-day life of a boy," Preston said contemptuously.

"I'm sure Matthew's duties are just keeping him busy," Rebecca said reassuringly.

"Yes I suppose you're right," Michaela said. "Have a nice lunch."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied. "That was a little rude," she commented as she and Preston left the clinic and made their way to the café.

"Yes, well."

"Preston…"

"I don't want to discuss him, Rebecca," he interrupted her. "I want to have a pleasant lunch with my wife."

Afternoon folks!" Grace greeted them, putting an end to the discussion. "My Rebecca…you get bigger every time I see you!"

"Thanks Grace," she laughed, pleased for the distraction, "I _feel_ bigger every time I see you!" She allowed her hand to rest protectively on her stomach.

The other woman laughed too. "Go and have a seat and I'll bring you over some meatloaf. I got apple pie for dessert too."

"You read my mind," Rebecca said as she and Preston sat down at a vacant table. "You didn't look too enthusiastic at the clinic," she challenged him, eager to divert the conversation.

"I don't understand what you mean," he replied.

"Well you sat there hardly saying a word while I was being examined."

"Well it's more of a consultation between you and Michaela. Quite frankly, I'm not sure I require to be there at all. How do you expect me to behave?" he asked.

"Happy, as opposed to appearing inconvenienced?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I have a terrible headache today and…you're right, I should have been more enthusiastic." He reached out and took her hand, "Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, but why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" She reached out and touched his face lightly, "You're rather warm. How long have you been feeling this way?"

"I didn't want to trouble you," he replied, batting her away.

"So you scold me for not telling you about my attack and then you keep this to yourself?"

"That's completely different!" he exclaimed, "Rebecca you must tell me the moment you feel remotely unwell in _any _sense!"

"I know and I will. But that sort of concern has to run both ways." She paused. "How did the meeting with Walter Mason go?"

"Very well," Preston replied. "He said he's looking forward to bringing his family out here this summer."

"So," Grace said, bringing over their plates and ending their discussion, "have you thought about names yet?"

"We've discussed it," Rebecca replied, "but we can't seem to agree at the moment."

"Oh?"

"I think you dismissed my suggestion rather out of hand," Preston said.

"What was that?" Grace asked.

"Preston A. Lodge IV," Rebecca replied, in a tone that indicated she had no intention of reconsidering it.

"I see," Grace shared her look.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Preston said. "It's a good name."

"I'm not saying it's not a good name," Rebecca replied, "but it might get confusing having two Preston's."

"It worked perfectly well for my father and I and his father before him."

"Your father might think we were naming the baby after him."

"So?"

"Preston, we are _not _giving the baby that name. Besides, what if it's a girl?"

"I have no objection to you naming it after your mother," he replied magnanimously.

"My mother's name was Caroline," Rebecca said for Grace's benefit.

"Oh that's pretty," Grace said.

"But if it's a boy…" Preston interjected.

"No!"

"Well then, what else would you suggest?" he asked, "We're not calling it after _your_ father."

Rebecca shook her head, "I agree. Angus is too old fashioned."

"You got Scotch blood, Rebecca," Grace said, "ain't there some other nice Scotch names you could use?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," she replied honestly. "No doubt when the baby arrives its name will become obvious."

Preston made a face into his cup, "No doubt."

XXXX

Three nights later, Rebecca was washing up the supper dishes when Preston came into the kitchen looking nothing short of ghastly. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned. "You look terrible."

"I'm going to…turn in early, if you don't mind," he replied, coughing violently as he spoke.

"Of course I don't mind." She stepped towards him and placed her hand on his cheek. "You're still very warm. That's been three days now, Preston, and that cough has only gotten worse. Perhaps you should have Michaela examine you tomorrow."

"I don't need to be seen by Michaela or any other doctor for that matter," he replied stubbornly.

"Oh, so it's all right for me to be prodded and poked but not you?"

"You're pregnant," he reminded her, "I merely have a headache and a temperature. Walter Mason had a terrible cold when I met with him the other day, coughing and spluttering everywhere, and no doubt he has passed it to me. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning." He brushed her forehead with his lips and then proceeded to make his way upstairs to the bedroom.

Rebecca finished tidying up, doused the fire, laid out the dishes for the following day's breakfast and then climbed the stairs herself. The lamp was burning in the bedroom and Preston was lying on his side of the bed, curled into a ball under the covers. She slipped off her dress and laid it on the chair, washed quickly and pulled on her nightshirt. Pulling back the covers, she slid into bed beside him and, within minutes was fast asleep.

Some hours later, she awoke suddenly. She wasn't sure what it was that had startled her, and she put her hand instinctively on her stomach to feel if it was the baby. It was then that she heard laboured breathing coming from Preston's side of the bed.

"Preston?" she said quietly, "Preston, are you awake?" There was no response and she leaned over him. "Preston, can you hear me?" He groaned slightly and she reached out to put her hand on his forehead and was shocked by the heat and sweat that she felt there. "Preston!" Her tone was more frantic now and she quickly lit the lamp at the side of the bed before rolling him over onto his back. "Oh my God…" she could see instantly that he was burning up, his face red and caked in sweat and he was shivering. Far from being a simple cold, this was something far more serious.

Getting out of bed as quickly as she could, Rebecca hurried to the wash basin, submerged the flannel lying beside it and hurriedly brought it over to the bed. She knelt at his side, placed it on his forehead and then wiped his face in a desperate attempt to cool him. She unbuttoned his nightshirt and passed the flannel over the top of his chest. His eyes remained closed. "Preston, please talk to me," she begged. He groaned again. "Preston…darling…you need help. You need help…" she cast around frantically, wondering what on earth she should do. She didn't want to leave him by himself, but she knew that he needed a doctor. "I have to go and get Michaela," she told him, but he gave no sign to having understood her. Quickly, she redressed and then pulled the covers up around him, keeping him warm, and made her way downstairs.

There wasn't enough time for her to hitch up the surrey, so she knew she would simply have to ride. Grabbing the tack from the porch, she hurried as fast as she could towards the stable. She unlocked Thunder's stall door and proceeded to tack him up as best she could. The saddle proved the most difficult to lift in her condition and she prayed for the strength to do it without hurting the baby. Once it was done, she led him out into the yard and tried to mount. The customary way was out of the question so she led him to the low wall running alongside the house, climbed up on it and then pulled herself as best she could onto his back. Glancing up at the light coming from the bedroom, she urged him forwards into a trot. The motion was uncomfortable and she prayed fervently that what she was doing wasn't going to harm the baby, but she was spurred on by the idea that Preston was in trouble. Pushing Thunder into a canter, she rode as quickly as she could along the trail until Michaela's homestead came into sight.

"Michaela!" she shouted up as she reached the front of it. "Michaela!"

One of the upstairs windows opened and Michaela's head appeared. "Rebecca?!"

"Please…"she gasped, "it's Preston. He's really sick and…and I don't know what to do…"

"Stay there!" Michaela disappeared and moments later, she and Sully appeared at the door. "You shouldn't have ridden all this way!" she exclaimed, hurrying down and grabbing Thunder's bridle.

"I'm fine," Rebecca said, "but it's Preston…" she suddenly felt light-headed and swayed in the saddle.

"Sully!" Michaela exclaimed.

He hurried forward and put his hands on her waist, lifting her easily off. "I got you," he said, hitching her up in his arms and carrying her inside. Michaela followed behind and he placed her gently down in the chair.

"Please," Rebecca said faintly, "I left Preston alone. I'm fine but you have to go and make sure he's all right."

"I'll come with you," Sully said to Michaela, "Rebecca can stay here with the children."

"No," she tried to get up, "No, I have to come with you…"

"You need to rest," Michaela urged. "I'll go and see to Preston, but you must stay here." At that moment, Colleen appeared. "Colleen, brew Rebecca some tea and look in my bag. I should have some digitalis in there in case she needs it. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Ok Ma," Colleen replied.

"Rebecca," Michaela turned back to her friend. "What are Preston's symptoms?"

"He has a high fever," she replied, "sweating, having trouble breathing…" she grabbed Michaela's arm. "Do you think he'll be all right?"

"I won't know until I've examined him," Michaela replied, grabbing her overcoat from behind the door and pulling it on over her nightclothes. Then she grabbed her bag and she and Sully quickly left the house. They rode hurriedly to the other house and Michaela hurried inside and upstairs to the bedroom where Preston was still lying, half conscious, in the bed. She pulled up his eyelids to look and then brought out her stethoscope to listen to his chest.

Sully appeared at the door moments later. "Is he all right?"

"He has a high fever," Michaela replied, "and his pulse is weak." She moved her stethoscope over his chest area and then paused before looking up at him. "I think he has influenza."

XXXX

"Influenza?!" Rebecca exclaimed when Sully returned to give her the news. "But…but I don't understand. How could he get influenza?"

"Michaela ain't sure," he replied.

"The man he met with a few days ago at the hotel, Walter Mason. Preston said that he had a terrible cold and that he was coughing and spluttering everywhere…" her eyes filled with tears. "Is he going to be all right?" Sully didn't reply. "Oh God no!" Rebecca got to her feet and hurried towards the door.

Sully chased her, catching her lightly around the waist before she could open it. "You can't go to him," he told her. "Michaela wants me to take you and Colleen to the clinic where you'll be safe."

"But…"

"She says that you and the baby have both been exposed."

"I feel fine!" Rebecca protested. "Sully, I have to be with him. Please, please let me go to him!"

"Michaela's looking after him," he tried to reassure her. "You gotta trust that she knows what she's doing and that she'll make sure that he's all right."

Rebecca finally acquiesced but cried for the entire journey to the clinic in the wagon with Sully and Colleen. All she could think about was Preston and if he was all right. She knew she had done the right thing in getting help, but part of her wished she had never left his side. When they reached town, Sully dropped them at the clinic and helped Rebecca out of the wagon.

"I'm going to tell Matthew that the two of you are here," he said, "then he can keep an eye on you til morning."

Rebecca didn't say anything as she followed Colleen into the clinic and upstairs to one of the rooms. The younger woman turned down the bed for her and helped her in, gently telling her that she would just be next door. Rebecca longed for sleep, but it was all she could do to stare at the ceiling, tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt her baby move inside her and prayed for its father.

She must have finally succumbed, however, because she suddenly woke to daylight streaming in the window and the sound of voices outside the bedroom door. Getting out of bed, she padded to the door and opened it to find Michaela and Colleen talking on the other side, the former looking completely exhausted.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Preston, is Preston all right? Sully said something about influenza."

"He does have influenza, Rebecca," Michaela said. "He's displaying all the classic symptoms."

"Well…what can you do? You must be able to do something to help him."

"I've been bathing him in cold water and administering willowbark tea," she replied, "but I'm concerned that the infection might spread to his lungs."

"What does that mean?" Rebecca asked fearfully.

Michaela paused, "Pneumonia."

Rebecca felt as though her throat was closing up and she could barely breathe. "I…I want to see him."

Michaela shook her head, "It's too dangerous for you and the baby."

"I want to _see _him!"

"I can't advise it, Rebecca. You've already been exposed by being around Preston. This disease can simply pass from person to person and there is every chance that you could develop it. That could have serious consequences for you and the baby and I don't believe that Preston would want you to take that risk."

"But he's my husband," she persisted. "If it was Sully, wouldn't you want to be with him?"

"Of course, but…"

"Michaela, please…" Rebecca begged, tears starting to spill down her cheeks. "Please, I have to see him!"

"I'm sorry," Michaela said, "I really have to advise against it."

Rebecca turned back into the room and sank down onto the bed. "I don't understand why this is happening…" she sobbed. "He was fine a few days ago…"

"I know this is hard," Michaela said, coming to sit beside her, "but Preston's a strong man, Rebecca. You have to believe that he can beat this disease."

Rebecca looked up at her, "Do you think he can?"

Michaela paused. "Influenza is a dangerous illness but...with what I've seen in the past...I think he has every chance."

Rebecca nodded. "It's funny…all this time, we've been so worried about something happening to me that…we never thought about something happening to him…" she dissolved into sobs again and Michaela held her tightly to her, although she longed for someone else's arms.


	40. Chapter 40

**I'm so sorry that I haven't updated for a while. Life has just been so manic!! Thanks for sticking with me though and here is the next chapter. Please read and review!!**

**Three days later**

The sun was slowly setting over Colorado Springs, casting a warm, rosy glow over the horizon. Michaela sat in Preston and Rebecca's bedroom, reading a book in the amber light, and wishing she could have been anywhere but here. It had been three days and there had been no sign of Preston's condition improving. If anything, it had deteriorated.

Rebecca had begged and begged to be allowed to see him, but Michaela had remained firm. Although she understood her friend's distress, she knew that Rebecca would only be putting herself and the baby at risk, so she insisted that she remain at the clinic until things had changed. She hadn't seen the children for days, determined not to expose them to Preston's condition, though Sully had come to the house on a few occasions but had remained outside, shouting to her through the window.

"Rebecca? Rebecca…"

Michaela looked up over to the bed, where Preston lay, still burning with fever. "Rebecca…"

She stood up and moved over beside him, dismayed to see the sweat beaded on his forehead and chest, causing his nightshirt to stick to his body. Reaching into the basin by the bed, she rinsed out the cloth and placed it on his forehead. "Sssh," she soothed him, "it's all right." She ran the flannel gently over him.

Preston reached out and took her hand in his, causing her to start slightly. "My darling…" he breathed, his eyes still closed. "I love you…"

"Preston, I'm…" she broke off, about to confess that she wasn't who he thought she was, but then she realised that he really wasn't aware of who was in the room and that it might give him some comfort to believe Rebecca was there.

"I love you and the baby," he continued, his breathing laboured. "You'll be all right. You'll both…be all right…" He coughed violently. "You'll be well provided for…I've…I've made sure…"

"Don't talk," Michaela said uncomfortably. "Save your strength."

"The bank…" he coughed again, "and the hotel….they're both yours…"

"Preston…"

"You've made me so happy…so happy…" he lapsed into unconsciousness again, his grip on her hand lessening.

Michaela lifted her stethoscope and pressed it to his chest, her heart sinking as she listened to the wet crackling of his lungs. It was what she had feared the most.

****

"Rebecca, you've got to eat something," Colleen said as she and Rebecca sat at Grace's café the following morning. Rebecca was staring down at her plate, moving the food around with her fork but making no attempt to actually eat. "You need to keep your strength up."

"I can't," she replied, putting her fork down. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to," Colleen insisted. "You need to keep your strength up for the baby."

"Who cares!" she snapped. "Who cares about the baby?!" Then, realising what she had said, she put her hands over her stomach and started to cry. "I didn't mean that…"

"Of course you didn't," Colleen said, putting her hand on her friend's arm. "You're exhausted."

Rebecca nodded. She had barely slept in the last three days, so consumed with worry about Preston. Though a part of her knew her friend was right in keeping her away, Rebecca could hardly bear the separation. She needed to be there with him, needed to see him, to let him know that she cared, to tell him how much that she loved him. Faced with the prospect that he might die, she found herself regretting all the times she hadn't told him, all the petty arguments they had had. If only he would live…she would let him name their child after his father…anything…just as long as he lived…

"Matthew."

Rebecca looked up at the sound of Colleen greeting her brother and met Matthew's gaze from where he was standing a few feet away.

"You all right?" he asked her. She nodded wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak. He sat down beside her. "You look tired."

"She's not sleeping," Colleen explained, "No wonder."

"You need to take care of yourself Becca," Matthew said softly. "Preston wouldn't want…" he trailed off.

"You think he's going to die?" she looked up at him.

"I don't know. Doctor Mike's doing all she can for him, I know that. If anyone can get Preston through this it's her."

"Think of all the times she's done this before," Colleen added. "Besides, Preston's got a lot to fight for now that he's going to be a father."

Rebecca's head suddenly snapped up. "His parents…I should wire his parents." The thought hadn't so much as crossed her mind before now. Her only thoughts had been for herself and she had neglected to think about Preston's own family and the fact that they would want to know what had happened. She pushed her chair back quickly and stood up, instantly feeling faint and swaying dangerously.

"Hey, slow down," Matthew said, jumping up beside her and wrapping his arm around her waist. "Take it easy."

"I'm fine," she replied, wriggling out of his grip. "I have to get to the telegraph office." She hurried away from the table, Colleen's voice shouting after her that she hadn't eaten anything. Purposefully, she made her way to the station where there was a line at Horace's booth. Impatiently she waited, shifting from foot to foot wishing, uncharitably, that old Widow Peterson in front would hurry up. Finally, she was at the head of the line.

"Morning Rebecca," Horace greeted her, "How's Preston?"

"Not so good," she replied in as steady a voice as possible. "I…I need to send a wire to his parents in Boston."

"Of course," Horace replied, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil.

"It's to Mr and Mrs Preston A. Lodge II, Beacon Hill, Boston," she said. "Dear Mr and Mrs Lodge. Preston extremely ill with influenza. Condition grave. You may wish to come." She paused. "Rebecca." She handed over the money.

"I'll send it right away," Horace reassured her.

"Thank you," she replied, stepping back from the booth. Turning, she watched as the residents of the town hurried past, wrapped up in their own thoughts, oblivious to her pain and wished it could all be different.

****

_"Preston, I indulged your wish to open a branch of my bank in that town on the understanding that you would be level-headed about the situation……. I assumed that once opened you would leave it in someone else's capable hands and come back to Boston to honour your commitment to Miss Draper…."_

Preston screwed his eyes tightly shut to block out his father's words.

_"Clearly, however, your head has been turned by some local beauty with neither the wealth nor the connections to be considered a good match…. I will not have my son garner the reputation as a man who makes promises lightly. You will close the bank and return home immediately…."_

"No Father," he groaned, "No…"

_"You think that I wasn't serious before….I will close that bank, Preston, I mean it!"_

"No…"

_"I'm your mother, Preston. I can read your feelings. And I am also quite aware of how much mail leaves this house and hoe much comes in and I know that you are writing to Colorado Springs more than she is writing here….could it not be that Miss McKendrick's affection has waned now that you have left town…"_

"Mother…"

_"Well…you will be the best judge. I just don't want to see you have your heart broken, Preston…..you are too important to me for that…"_

"Rebecca…" he breathed, pushing his face into the coolness of the pillow, "Rebecca loves me…"

_"I was afraid that you would decide you wanted to stay there and marry Helen. Or worse, that you might bring her back here as your wife… I knew that I wouldn't be able to stand that when I felt…when I knew that I…I loved you…."_

"My darling…" he groaned.

_"A little thing like that? Preston, think of what you've just said. Thoughts of me…with you in your bed…don't you see that it's those feelings that could lead to a potentially unhappy ending for both of us….I could never fully give myself to you knowing that I could conceive and…and what marriage is complete without that…"_

"I love you so much…sweet Rebecca…"

_"I'm sure that…with Michaela's help…everything will be fine. I want this baby so much, Preston. I know I'll be a good mother and you'll be a wonderful father..."_

All of the images were flashing before him at a relentless pace. It was bright, too bright and too fast. His mother, father, Rebecca, James, Michaela…everyone was going too fast…he tried to reach out for Rebecca, tried to grab onto her, but she kept slipping out of his grasp. He needed her, needed her so badly…

"Rebecca…" he whimpered, "Rebecca…"

He was dying and he needed her.

****

Rebecca had wandered aimlessly after instructing the telegram, not sure where to go or what to do. She had avoided going back to Grace's in case Colleen and Matthew tried to get her to eat. Every time she thought of food, her throat closed up and she felt as though she might be sick. She had walked slowly down the road towards the church, wondering if there was a God and, if there was, if he was hearing her desperate prayers to save her husband. She remembered Preston telling her how he had refused to give the Reverend a loan for repairs, and she only hoped that God wouldn't hold that against him in his fight for survival.

"Rebecca!" She turned suddenly at the sound of her name and saw Sully riding quickly towards her.

"What is it?" she demanded anxiously, "Preston…"

"Michaela wants you to go to the house right away," he said, "she sent me to fetch you."

She felt her blood run cold, "Is he…?"

"I don't know. She just told me to get you." Rebecca stepped forward to his horse and made to pull herself up behind him. "No," Sully said quickly, "we'll go back to town and get a wagon."

"I don't need a wagon," she replied, "I rode all the way to get Michaela and I was fine. Just help me up."

Reluctantly, Sully slid down and helped her up onto the horse before climbing up behind her and taking the reins. Urging him on, they made their way out of town and towards the house, arriving within moments. Sully pulled the house to a stop, jumped down and then helped Rebecca down just as Michaela appeared at the door.

"I'm glad you're here," she said.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked, climbing the steps." Is he all right? What…?"

Michaela guided her inside and sat her down in the living room before perching on the chair beside her. "The infection has spread to his lungs," she explained. "He's developed pneumonia."

"No…" Rebecca whispered shakily.

"I've been trying to clear his lungs but…" she sighed, "so far, it's not been having much effect." Tears filled Rebecca's eyes and slipped down her cheeks. "I thought you should be here."

"Is he going to die?" she asked.

Michaela paused, "Perhaps."

Rebecca let out a strangled cry and put her head in her heads, her body shaking with sobs. _Not Preston, please God don't take him…_She felt Michaela's hand on her back, but all she wanted was to be with her husband. Getting to her feet, she hurried towards the stairs and climbed as quickly as she could. Rushing along the corridor, she pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside. The room was warm, with the shades drawn and only a lamp burning in the corner. Preston lay motionless on the bed, the only noise being the terrible sound of his breathing.

"Preston?" she stepped forward, wishing that he would open his eyes and sit up, but he didn't. Rebecca moved over to the bed and looked down at him. He looked so frail and helpless, not like the man she knew. Gingerly, she sat down in the seat next to the bed and reached out to take his hand in hers. She was surprised by the heat emanating from his body and it only made her heart sink further. "Preston…?" He twitched suddenly, causing her to start. "Preston, can you hear me?" With seemingly great effort, he opened his eyes a few centimetres and met her gaze. "I'm here," she said, bending closer to him, "My darling, I'm here." She placed her hand on the side of his face and stroked his cheek gently, fighting back her tears.

Preston murmured something that she couldn't understand, but he turned his face slightly into her hand, the only real sign she had that he perhaps knew that she was there.

"I love you," she said, the tears now pouring down her cheeks. "I love you so much. Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me, Preston, not now…I couldn't bear it…" Before she had time to think, she pulled herself onto the bed beside him and wrapped herself around him. It was uncomfortably hot and sweaty, but she needed to be close to him now. Not just her, but their baby too. Somehow, she knew that if he was going to die, she wanted them all to die.

**Boston**

"Father, I really wish you would let me come with you," James said in exasperation as his parents busied themselves to depart from Boston.

"No, no," his father said, "You must stay here and make sure everything is all right at the bank." He nodded decisively, "Your mother and I will be fine."

"Have you had any more word from Rebecca?"

"Another telegram came last night to say that his condition remains the same," Preston Senior paused and looked out of the study window. "Grave."

There was a sombre silence before James spoke again. "Father, if Preston is going to die…" he trailed off as his father looked at him sharply. "Then I would like to see him."

"I know," his father nodded, "but I don't think it's wise that the entire family descends on Colorado Springs, particularly with Rebecca in her condition."

"Of course," James replied. "But if things do seem to be worsening…"

"We will send for you," Preston Senior reassured him. At that moment, the study door opened and Alice appeared. "Are we ready to leave?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes red from crying. "I want to leave now, Preston, the sooner the better."

"Of course," he came out from behind his desk. "Have Collins bring the carriage around to the door." Alice nodded and quickly left. "Now, you will be able to handle the meeting tomorrow, won't you?"

"Of course I will," James replied.

"If there are any problems…"

"Father, I can handle it. Please just go."

Preston Senior nodded and then held out his hand, "Goodbye son."

"Goodbye Father," James echoed. "God speed."

Preston Senior hurried through the house and out the front door to where Alice was already settled in the carriage. As he prepared to climb in beside her he paused, hearing someone call his name from behind. Turning, he saw Helen O'Connell hurrying towards him, pushing a pram. "Mr Lodge!" she exclaimed, stopping beside him to catch her breath. "I heard the news about Preston. How is he?"

"We're on our way to Colorado Springs to see him," he replied. "I understand from Rebecca that his condition is not good."

"I'm so sorry," she said, "I know how he's Mrs Lodge's favourite." She glanced into the carriage. "Please give him my best."

"I will."

"Perhaps now he will see how foolish moving to that town and marrying that woman was," she added bitterly.

Preston Senior looked at her, "Yes," he replied, "perhaps he will." With that, he climbed into the carriage beside his wife and they began to head for the station.

**Colorado Springs**

Rebecca wasn't sure what time it was when she woke, but the room was in darkness and there was a chill which made her believe it was during the night. She glanced at the fire in the corner of the room and saw that it was burning down to its last few embers. Then she looked back at Preston and saw that he was unconscious, his breathing still ragged, his body still ravaged with fever.

Feeling nothing short of despair, Rebecca levered herself off of the bed and moved over to the basin beside the window. She poured some water in and carried it back to the bed to begin sponging Preston down again.

Just as she was about to reach it however, she dropped the basin suddenly, causing it to smash on the floor beneath her feet, as pain shot through her abdomen.


	41. Chapter 41

**Sorry for the delay again everyone but real life has just been stressful lately! Thanks for all your reviews and here's the next chapter!!**

"Oh God…" Rebecca gasped, pressing her hand to her stomach as pain coursed through her. "Oh God, no…" She stumbled forward, reaching out to catch hold of the edge of the bed before collapsing onto her knees. She felt a warm, sticky sensation at the top of her thighs and let out a cry of fright.

The bedroom door opened suddenly and Michaela came rushing in, dressed in her nightgown. "Rebecca?"

"Michaela…"

"What is it?" Michaela hurried over to her and crouched down next to her friend.

"I don't know…"

"Can you stand?" She wrapped her arm around Rebecca's waist and tried to gently lift her to her feet, but the pain was clearly too much and Rebecca sank back down again.

"I can't…" she whimpered, "I can't…" Michaela grabbed her stethoscope from where it was lying next to the bed. "It hurts…oh…it hurts…it's too early, surely it's too early…"

Michaela pressed the instrument to her friend's stomach and was dismayed to hear that the baby's heartbeat was rapid. "Rebecca, can you lean back for a moment?" She assisted Rebecca to lean her head against the bedside dresser and then lifted her skirts. "Your waters have broken."

Rebecca looked fearfully at her, "But it's too early!"

"We have to get you into bed," Michaela said, businesslike.

"But it's too early!" Rebecca repeated, her voice rising into a wail. "No…" her face crumpled as another wave of pain hit her.

"You're having contractions," Michaela explained. "We need to get you into the spare room. Can you get to your feet?" Rebecca tried to push herself up from the ground but failed. "Roll over gently onto your knees," Michaela instructed, "and then ease yourself up." Rebecca did as she was told and Michaela placed her hand under her arm to help her up. Slowly, they began shuffling towards the bedroom door.

Rebecca stopped suddenly and turned back to the bed where her husband still lay, oblivious to what was going on around him. "I want to stay with Preston!"

"You can't right now," Michaela replied. "You have to do what's best for you and the baby and, right now, that means getting into bed."

"But…"

"It's what Preston would want," she added.

Sobbing, Rebecca allowed Michaela to steer her out of the room and down the hall to the vacant spare bedroom. "This shouldn't be happening…" she cried as Michaela guided her towards the bed. "Not like this…"

"I want you to lie down," Michaela instructed, "and I want you to try hard not to push."

"Please Michaela…" Rebecca sobbed, "please make it stop…" She climbed as best she could onto the bed and Michaela pushed her skirts up and opened her thighs. "Is the baby coming?" Michaela didn't reply. "Michaela, is the baby coming?!"

Michaela looked at her over the tops of her knees. "Yes," she said, "yes it is."

"No…oh God no…" Rebecca moaned. "No…!"

"Rebecca, you have to calm down," Michaela said, "I need you to focus on not pushing."

"Preston! I want Preston!"

"I need to get my bag, Rebecca, I'll be right back." Michaela flew out of the bedroom and rushed down the stairs to the living area where she had left her bag. As she lifted it, she heard another scream coming from the bedroom and she ran back up as fast as she could. Coming back into the bedroom, she saw Rebecca now on her knees on the bed, her face contorted with pain. "Rebecca, don't push!"

"I have to! I can't…ahh…."

"Don't!" But Rebecca was bearing down, her face growing redder with each passing second. "Stop pushing!"

"I can't…" she cried. "I can't…" And in that moment, she didn't care about herself, didn't care that she might lose her own life doing this. All she could think about was that her baby wanted life and she had to give it.

XXXX

"I don't know how you can sit there reading as though nothing were happening," Alice said, glaring at her husband sat opposite her in the train carriage. They were only a few miles from Denver and only another day away from their son.

Preston Senior looked at her over the top of his book. "What would you rather I do? Sit staring out of the window at the non-existent scenery?"

"It's as if you don't even care."

"Of course I care, but we still have many hours to travel and you're doing yourself no good by constantly worrying."

"Our son could be dead by the time we get there!" Alice exclaimed.

"Preston's a fighter," her husband said, turning back to his book. "I have absolute faith that he'll make a full recovery."

"And if he doesn't?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "If, God forbid, the worst should happen, we will deal with it as best we can."

"Rebecca must feel wretched. I can only imagine what she's going through in her condition."

Preston Senior let out a long breath, "Rebecca's a strong woman. I've no doubt she's coping admirably with the pregnancy. After all," he added, "she's carrying a Lodge."

XXXX

Rebecca covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Michaela finished cleaning up as best as she could and then turned back to the small bundle lying in the wicker basket on the floor. It was almost as though she was merely sleeping and if she stared long enough, she could almost see the blanket move with non-existent breath. A little girl, perfect in every way, except life.

It had been a quick labour. Too quick. Over in a matter of hours as the sun had started to rise. Far from being concerned for Rebecca's health during the delivery, it had become quickly obvious that the baby was not going to wait any longer and was in some distress. When she had slid from between Rebecca's legs, Michaela had instantly been able to tell that there was no hope, despite Rebecca's repeated screams for her to make the baby breathe.

"You need a stitch," Michaela said quietly, but Rebecca drew her legs up under her and continued to cry. "Rebecca…"

"Go away," the younger woman said, her voice full of raw pain. "Please."

"But I need to…"

"Go away!" Rebecca screamed, rolling over onto her side and burying her face in the pillow. Michaela stood up, knowing that it would do more harm than good to insist now, and moved towards the door. "Take it with you."

She stopped and turned back. "What?"

"Take it with you!"

Michaela wanted to refuse, knowing that Rebecca should see her baby, but she knew better than to argue at this stage. She walked back over to the bed and gently lifted the basket before leaving the room. She carried her downstairs and laid the basket next to the fire before brewing some tea. She made two cups and carried them back up the stairs, heading first for the main bedroom.

The moment that she opened the door, she could tell something had changed. Hurriedly setting the cups down, she drew back the blinds and then moved over to the bed. Preston's breathing was even and, when she touched his forehead, she felt to her relief that his fever had broken. "Thank God," she whispered, though she couldn't help feeling that what he had given with one hand, he had taken away with the other.

"How are they?" Sully asked later as he and Colleen arrived at the house. Michaela had filled them in on the events of the morning and Colleen had even insisted on holding the baby, crying as she did so.

"Preston's fever broke a few hours ago," Michaela replied. "He's resting comfortably."

"Does he know…?"

"No." Michaela looked at Colleen. "I think it would be wise for you to fetch the Reverend," she said. "There's…arrangements that have to be made and…well…perhaps he can talk to Rebecca."

"Sure Ma," Colleen replied.

"She still upset?" Sully asked.

"Oh Sully…" Michaela stepped into his arms. "She's devastated, understandably and…she won't even look at the baby," as she spoke, she glanced at the basket still sat by the fire. "And with Preston still sick…"

"She just needs time," he reassured her.

"I don't know if I should tell him," she said. "I don't know if it's my place."

Sully pulled back and looked at her. "You have to tell him, Michaela. Rebecca's in no fit state to do it right now and he has a right to know."

"But he's not fully recovered yet," she argued.

"I know that. He'll be weak but he'll be awake and the first thing he's going to wonder is why she ain't at his side."

Michaela nodded. "You're right. I know you're right."

"I spoke to Horace," Sully continued. "Preston's folks are on their way here. Should be arriving in the next day or so."

"They'll be relieved he's alive," Michaela mused. "I just wish the same could be said for their granddaughter."

XXXX

It was evening before Preston opened his eyes for the first time and slowly came to. In those first few moments of awakening, he felt as though his head had been cleaved in two, throbbing painfully even in the dim lamplight. His throat was raw and dry, his lips chapped from dehydration and even muscle in his body ached.

Squinting in the light, he could make out a figure at the other side of the room. At first, he thought it was Rebecca, but as his eyes adjusted he saw that it was in fact Michaela. "Michaela?" he said, his voice thin and scratchy to his ears.

She moved over to the bed beside him. "How do you feel?"

"I've felt better," he replied honestly. "What…what happened?"

"You've had influenza," Michaela explained, filling a cup with water and helping him to drink from it. "The last few days you've had us all worried. But your fever broke early this morning and you're doing much better. I've no doubt that you'll be fully recovered in a few days."

"Rebecca…" he said immediately. "Where…?"

"She's in the other room," Michaela replied, "she's…resting."

"Is she all right?" he asked, laying his head back down.

"Yes, she's…" Michaela paused, "she's as well as can be expected."

Despite his symptoms, Preston didn't fail to miss the implication in her tone. "Has something happened?"

"Well…"

"Has she contracted it too?" he demanded, his voice increasing in pitch. "Have I given her this? Is she sick?"

"Preston…"

"Rebecca?!" he called out her name. "Rebecca!"

"Ssssh, please…" Michaela tried to quieten him. "She's asleep and you need to preserve your strength."

"But what's _happened?!_" he demanded.

"Rebecca…" Michaela paused, hating the news she knew she had to deliver and yet knowing there was no-one else capable of doing it. "Rebecca went into labour last night."

"Labour?" Preston's eyes widened. "But surely it's too early? And she was supposed to have a caesarean section…you said so yourself…"

"I know, but there was nothing I could do…"

"She's had the baby?" he looked at her questioningly. "She's had the baby and she's all right?"

"Yes, but…"

"Thank the Lord…" he sank back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"Preston…" Michaela's voice shook. "I'm so sorry but the baby…the baby didn't survive."

He opened his eyes again, "What?"

"It was just…just too early and…and I'm so very sorry…"

"No…" he said, "no, but…"

"There was nothing that I could do."

"I don't understand…"

Michaela felt her eyes fill with tears. "It was just…just too early and…what are you doing?" Preston pushed back the bedclothes and tried to swing his legs over the bed. "Preston…"

"I have to see her," he declared, grabbing onto the bedside table to help pull himself to his feet.

"You need to rest!" He stumbled and then pitched forward onto the floor. "Preston, you're not well enough to get out of bed!" she exclaimed, crouching beside him to help him to his feet.

Preston shook her off, determination filling him despite the terrible weakness. "I'll crawl if I have to!" Pulling himself awkwardly to his feet, he traversed his way around the bed towards the door and out into the hallway.

"At least put this on!" Michaela insisted, throwing a shawl around his shoulders. He accepted it silently. "Preston…" she said, as he reached the door of the other bedroom. "Rebecca's very upset and she might…" Before she could finish, however, Preston had pushed the door open and stumbled inside.

There was a lamp flickering in the corner of the room, casting a warm glow, but all it highlighted was the empty bed.


	42. Chapter 42

**Hi everyone...once again I find myself apologising for the delay in updating. Life has been a bit of a bitch over the last few months and I've no inclination to update. But here we are and I'm going to try and keep it regular again. I hope you'll keep reading and reviewing because Rebecca and Preston's saga is far from over.....**

"Where is she?" Preston demanded, his eyes searching the room before rounding on Michaela. "Where _is _she?"

"I…I don't know," Michaela replied. "I left her here sleeping…Preston…" he pushed past her out of the room and made his way to the top of the stairs. "Be careful," she warned as he slowly and awkwardly began descending them, holding onto the banister with both hands.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he hurried into the main living quarters, finding them dark save for the light from the fire. "Rebecca!" he called out, his voice echoing. There was no reply and he moved into the kitchen, also finding it to be empty.

"Perhaps she's outside," Michaela suggested, moving quickly to the front door.

"But surely she's not well enough to…" Preston's voice trailed off as he turned back towards the fire and saw the Moses basket Rebecca had ordered from Boston sat next to it. Overcome with a feeling of dread, he staggered towards it, almost too afraid to look inside and see his dead child.

"I can't see her," Michaela replied, stepping back inside. "I don't know…" she paused as she saw Preston move towards the basket. Silently she waited, wishing she didn't have to be privy to this moment.

Preston paused for a long moment, "What was it?"

"A girl," Michaela replied.

He turned to look at her, his eyes wide, "She's gone."

Michaela hurried forward and looked into the basket which, to her shock, was empty. "Rebecca must have taken her."

"Where?" he demanded, "where in God's name…" he broke off and staggered slightly. Michaela rushed to assist him and helped lower him down into the chair. "I'm fine," he said.

"You're not," Michaela said, "you're recovering from a serious bout of influenza and you should be in bed!"

"I have to look for her," Preston tried to push himself out of the chair but Michaela firmly stopped him.

"No, you have to stay here."

"But it's the middle of the night!" he protested. "She's out there somewhere with the baby and…"

"We'll find her," Michaela reassured him. "I'm going to ride for Sully and Matthew and we're going to look for her but you have to promise me that you'll stay here."

"No!"

"And what if she comes back and finds you gone?" she asked him. "Don't you want to be here in case she returns?"

Preston paused. "I suppose…"

"All right then," Michaela pulled the shawl closer around him and re-stoked the fire. "I'll be as quick as I can," she said, hurrying over and lifting her coat from where it hung behind the door.

"Michaela?" She turned back to where Preston sat helpless. "Promise me that you'll find her."

Michaela nodded. "I promise."

With that, she was gone and Preston found himself alone in his own house, the silence feeling almost deafening. He sat staring into the fire, not sure what to do or what to think. It was almost too much to comprehend in the moments since he had woken. Rebecca had given birth, the child had died, and his wife was missing. After ten minutes or so, he rose from the chair and made his way into the kitchen to make some tea. As he was coming back to the living room, he heard a noise from outside. Pausing, he listened until he heard it again. It sounded like the sound of metal hitting the earth.

He moved to the front door and opened it, pulling the shawl Michaela had given him around himself as the cold night air hit him. Moving down the steps he waited, listening as the sound repeated itself over and over. At first, he couldn't place where it was coming from, then he realised that it was emanating from behind the house. He hurried back inside the house, closing the door behind him, and let himself out the back door into the large garden expanse behind the house. At first, he could see nothing except darkness but then he heard the sound again and slowly began moving forwards in its direction.

"Hello?" he called out. "Who's there?" As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he suddenly caught sight of a figure a few feet away from him, relentlessly striking the ground with a shovel. He moved towards it and was suddenly shocked to recognise his wife. "Rebecca!"

She stopped and looked up at him, but showed no sign of relief at the fact that he was alive. "I have to bury her," she said, before continuing on with her work.

Preston glanced down and saw a small bundle at Rebecca's feet. As he edged closer, he saw a small, thin arm, protruding from the thick, white swaddling. Swallowing hard, he crouched down and pulled it back to reveal the face of his child. Pain suddenly coursed through him and, for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

"Stop," he said quietly, gathering the bundle to him and standing up again, his head spinning with the effort.

"I need to bury her," Rebecca said again, continuing to plunge the shovel into the ground, causing more damage than making progress. "Be careful with her," she said, turning suddenly to face him.

"My God…you're bleeding," Preston breathed, suddenly noticing the bloodstain on the front of her slip. "And you must be freezing. Please come inside." He shrugged the shawl from his own shoulders and stepped towards her.

"I'm fine," she replied. "You should be helping me."

Cradling his daughter in the crook of one arm, Preston held out the shawl to her. "We can bury her properly in the cemetery," he said.

"I think she should be buried here," Rebecca said, breathlessly pausing and wiping her brow. "Here with us. I just don't…I don't seem to have the energy to do this properly."

"Then come inside just now," he pressed, "we can do it later."

Rebecca met his gaze, "Do you promise you'll help me later?"

He nodded, "I promise."

Somewhat reluctantly, she took the shawl from him and put it around her shoulders. Then she stepped forward and reached for their daughter, gently taking her from him and holding her close to her. She followed him back inside the house and immediately headed for the seat by the fire, where she sat cradling the baby, her eyes never lifting from her face.

Preston sat opposite her, unsure what to do, fighting the nausea that he felt. It wasn't normal, surely, to be acting this way after the loss of a child. Eventually, she raised her eyes and met his gaze again.

"I'm glad you're all right," she said softly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he replied.

"There wouldn't have been anything you could have done," she replied, looking back down at her daughter's peaceful face. "Is it still all right to name her Caroline?"

Preston fought back his tears as best he could, "Of course."

And they sat by the fire together, until Michaela returned several minutes later looking, for all the world, like a normal family.

XXXX

Preston's parents arrived on the train the following morning. Sully met them at the station and told them the news before bringing them out to the house. Preston was there to greet them, feeling marginally better than he had the previous day.

"Preston my darling," Alice said, pulling him into a strong embrace. "I'm so glad that you're all right!" She pulled back and looked at him lovingly. "But I am so very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he replied quietly. Shaking his father's hand, he managed a small smile, "It's good to see you again, Father."

"Likewise," Preston Senior replied, "I'm sorry it's under such tragic circumstances."

"How is Rebecca?" Alice asked as he led them into the house.

"She's still sleeping," Preston replied. He quickly relayed the events of the previous evening. "I think the shock is beginning to wear off now. I couldn't get her to stop crying." He looked at the floor as he remembered how Rebecca's fragile sanity had cracked where all he had been able to do was hold her as she sobbed. Her grief had finally, after several hours, given way to exhaustion and she had fallen into a troubled sleep.

"What did you name her?" Alice asked softly.

"Caroline," he replied, "after Rebecca's mother. She…uh…she's at the church," he explained. "We're hoping the service can take place tomorrow when Rebecca's feeling better."

"Let me go and see her," Alice said.

"I'm not sure if…"

"Please," she insisted, "I might be able to help."

Preston nodded his thanks and, when his mother had gone upstairs, he led his father into the living room and gestured for him to sit down. "Can I get you anything, Father?"

"No, nothing," Preston Senior replied. "You should sit down, son, you still don't look well."

"I'll be all right," Preston replied, though he did as his father suggested. "I'm better than I was at any rate." They sat in silence for a long moment. "I'm not sure what to do for the best," he said finally.

"There isn't much you can do," Preston Senior replied.

"I feel guilty that I wasn't there when she needed me."

"You were sick! Besides, you know as well as I do that even if you had been well, you would have been kept away."

"I realise that," Preston said, looking at the floor. "But it doesn't make me feel any better." A few moments later, Alice came back downstairs and made her way into the kitchen. Preston followed her. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," she replied, "but she could do with some breakfast." She moved around the kitchen, making tea and preparing food.

Preston watched mutely for a moment before stepping in, "Allow me, Mother."

"Nonsense," Alice waved him away, "I'm perfectly capable of doing this. I do remember how to cook you know."

"I wasn't suggesting…" he broke off, "You're a guest here and you shouldn't have to…"

"Go up and see her," Alice prompted him. "I'll fix breakfast for her. Go on," she pressed. "She's awake and she wants to see you."

Given this seal of approval, Preston turned and made his way upstairs and into their bedroom. Rebecca was sitting up in bed looking pale and tired with dark circles under her eyes. "Good morning," he greeted her cautiously. She smiled wanly in return and held out her hand. Taking it in his, he moved over to the bed and sat on the edge. "How do you feel?"

"All right," she replied softly. "How are you? You're still very pale."

"I'm fine," he replied as brightly as he could.

"Will you speak to the Reverend today?" she asked.

"Of course."

"I want her to have a nice service," Rebecca continued. "A proper burial, not some…ridiculous attempt by me to dig a hole in our back garden…" She closed her eyes and shook her head in anger. "What was I thinking?"

"Don't worry about that now," he reassured her. "You were upset."

"I'm sorry," she said, tears springing into her eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I was so concerned about my own health that I didn't stop to think that this might happen…"

"Please," he interrupted her, "don't do this to yourself again. Just rest a while. My mother is making you breakfast."

"She shouldn't have to do that," Rebecca protested.

"She seems to want to," he replied, "but I warn you that I don't think she's cooked anything in at least twenty years so I can't vouch for its edibility." His attempt at humour made Rebecca smile slightly. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, stood up and moved back towards the door.

"Preston?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," Rebecca said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

He coughed to cover his own emotion, "I love you too," he replied before hurrying out of the room.

XXXX

The sun was splitting the trees the following day as Caroline Mary Lodge was laid to rest. The townsfolk had all come out to pay their respects and Rebecca felt somewhat confused that they should do so for a child none of them had ever met. But then she reasoned that she herself had been a mourner at so many funerals of people that she had barely known. It was obviously just the done thing.

The Reverend was saying nice things, or rather, she assumed he was, for she had barely heard a word. All she could think about was Caroline lying there in the little coffin that Jake had made, a life that had never actually begun.

She started suddenly as she felt Preston squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly so only she could hear.

"Fine," she lied, thinking what a stupid question it was to ask her. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of Alice whose face was streaming with tears and Preston Senior, his lips pressed tightly together, no emotion on his face. Turning to her other side, she saw Michaela and Sully and, in the background, Matthew, who never once met her gaze.

Before she realised what had happened, the ceremony was drawing to a close and the Reverend was gesturing to her to take the dirt from his hand and scatter it on the coffin. Numbly, she did as he asked, with Preston following suit. Then it was over, and people started to move away and head back across the meadow towards Grace's. But she kept her eyes fixed on Caroline's coffin, unwilling to move away, unwilling to leave her daughter behind.

"Rebecca?" Preston stepped in front of her, blocking her view. "We should go."

"I want to stay here a little longer," she replied, her voice sounding very far away.

"You can come back another day," he persisted, taking her arm.

"I said, I want to stay," she said, wriggling out of his grip. "You go."

"I really think that you should…"

"I'll stay with her." Rebecca looked up and saw Sully standing beside her. "It's all right Preston," he reassured him, "I'll bring her up in a little while."

"Fine," Preston said tightly.

"I know how you feel," Sully said after Preston was out of earshot.

"I know you do," Rebecca replied. "I wish you didn't. I wish neither of us did."

"You know that it ain't your fault, right?"

"In my head I do but…in my heart…"

"You think you should have been able to do more?"

Rebecca met his gaze. "I was her mother, Sully, and I couldn't even make sure that she was born." She looked away over his shoulder to where she knew Abagail and Hannah were buried. "How do you…?"

"Move on?" he finished her sentence. Rebecca nodded. "It takes time. A lot of time. It took me years to accept what had happened."

"But you have Michaela now, and Katie."

"Don't mean I don't still think about them. Don't mean I don't still wish they were here." Rebecca nodded. "You'll be all right," he reassured her. "But the most important thing to remember is that you have Preston. I lost my wife _and _my daughter. I felt like I had nobody to grieve with, nobody to turn to. You have each other."

"I know," she replied. Turning away from the grave she looked up the meadow to where Preston was hovering at the bridge. "I should go. Thank you," she said, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "For what you said."

"Any time," Sully replied.

As Preston watched Rebecca finally make her way towards him, he suddenly became aware of his parents standing behind him.

"Darling, are you all right?" Alice asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Yes Mother," he replied unconvincingly.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," she continued. "The minister said some very nice words."

"Yes he did." He paused. "I'm worried about Rebecca. Her emotions seem to be so… erratic at the moment."

"That's only natural," Alice said, "She's lost a child. I can't imagine how I would have felt in her position. You just need to give her some time. And _you _need time too."

"I'm fine," Preston replied hurriedly.

"It can be all too easy to forget the fathers in these situations," Alice said knowingly. "But you need time to grieve too."

"Come to Boston," Preston Senior said suddenly.

Preston turned to his father, "Boston?"

"Well why not? You and Rebecca haven't been there together and a change of scene might do you both good for a while. Give you a chance to get over things." He nodded as if this was quite obviously the answer.

"You might be right," Preston mused. "I'll ask her later."

XXXX

"Boston?" Rebecca said later that evening when Preston brought up his father's suggestion.

"My parents thought we could go back with them next week," he explained. "It might be good for us to get away for a while, don't you think?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," she said, carefully folding her shawl and placing it over the chair at her vanity table. She sat down and stared at herself in the glass.

Preston crouched beside her, "Being here right now is bound to be painful for you. I just think it would do you the world of good to have a change of scene. And Boston _is _beautiful this time of year."

"Isn't it painful for you too?" she asked, ignoring his proclamation about Boston's beauty.

"Of course," he replied, "but you were her mother. It's bound to be worse for you."

Rebecca rested her hand on her stomach, still slightly swollen. "Sometimes, I can't believe that she's not still inside me. I think that I can feel her move. And then, other times, my body thinks that I have a real, living baby and wants…" she looked away from her reflection. "I'm producing milk and…"

"You're tired," Preston interrupted. "It's been a very long and emotional day and you need to rest." He straightened up and held out his hand. Rebecca accepted it and allowed him to lead her over to the bed where she climbed in and lay there like a child herself as he pulled the covers around her.

"Preston?" Tears sprang into her eyes and her voice shook.

"Yes darling?"

"Do you think it was my fault that she died?"

Preston swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. "No," he said, pushing her hair back from her eyes and then bending to kiss her gently. "No I don't think it was your fault at all." He watched as she closed her eyes, then straightened up and made his way over to the door. Silently, he opened it and then closed it gently behind him. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated to the darkened hallway. "It was mine."


	43. Chapter 43

**Thanks for the reviews guys! Keep 'em coming please!!**

**June 10****th**** 1872**

**Boston**

After the unseasonable coolness of Colorado, Boston couldn't have been more different. Ever since they had arrived the weather had been simply glorious with blue skies and warm breezes that made the city come alive. The streets were bustling, the parks full to the brim with families enjoying the sunshine and yet Rebecca found that she couldn't seem to muster any joy for it. She and Preston had been in Boston for over three weeks and during that time, she had spent most days sitting in the Lodges' library, unwilling to venture outside. It was almost as though she didn't want to meet anyone lest they be able to tell what a failure she had been at the most natural thing in the world.

Preston had busied himself with work, attending various meetings and locking himself away with his father and brothers discussing financial affairs. Sometimes a whole day could pass and she would only see him at supper time. In the past, that would have irked her, but right now, she was content with her own company and resisted Alice's attempts to include her in her day-to-day activities. The only time she had felt vaguely comfortable was when Louisa had come to the house for lunch and the two women had shared their grief as only two people who had been in the same situation could. She found she could talk more easily to Louisa about Caroline than she believed she could ever talk to her husband. Despite him telling her that their daughter's death wasn't her fault, she couldn't help blaming herself.

This particular morning dawned as bright and fair as every other, but Rebecca pretended to still be asleep when Preston rose as she had done every other morning. Her actions were borne out of a marriage where her husband frequently enjoyed indulging in so-called 'morning delights', something which she couldn't, at this time, reciprocate. Not that she needed to worry, as not once had Preston tried to claim her since they had arrived. He clearly didn't find her as physically attractive since the loss of their child.

Once he had left the room, she drew the drapes and then sat up in bed watching the clouds roll by in the sky outside. The action calmed her, and allowed her to think about something other than her own grief. All of a sudden however, the bedroom door opened and Preston reappeared carrying a breakfast tray adorned with a single rose in a long stemmed glass.

"Ah you're awake!" he said, clearly pleased. "I brought you some breakfast."

Rebecca pushed herself further up into a seated position, while unconsciously pulling the covers closer around her, and watched him curiously as he brought it over and laid it on her lap. "It looks lovely," she replied, lifting the rose and smelling it. "What's the occasion?"

Preston smiled indulgently at her, "I thought it was more common for men to forget these occasions than women?" She looked at him. "It's our first anniversary. We've made it through twelve months of marriage."

"Oh…" Rebecca said, somewhat embarrassed at her own forgetfulness. "So it is. I'm sorry it…it completely slipped my mind."

"Not to worry," he said, reaching forward and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "We have all evening to celebrate."

"Celebrate?"

"Yes, I've booked a table at _La Gardenia _for us tonight, only the best restaurant in the city, and then I thought we could go to the new opera. Henry was raving about it last week, though his opinion is not often to be trusted."

"I see."

"I thought you could wear that new dress I bought you," he continued, referring to the exquisite and expensive green gown he had purchased as a present for her the day after they had arrived in Boston. She couldn't help wondering at the time why he had bought it for her.

"Yes…"

"And of course…" he reached into his pocket, "a little something to go with it?" He held out a small box. "Take it," he encouraged as she stared at it. Taking it from him, she opened it to reveal emerald earrings. "Aren't they beautiful?" he said. "A Spencer design of course."

"This is too much," she said faintly, closing the lid of the box. "I don't deserve these." _Not when I haven't been able to give you your child._

"Nonsense," he replied, "there is nothing I enjoy more than spoiling my beautiful wife." He leaned over to kiss her, but she turned and offered her cheek instead, causing his lips to brush briefly against it. Her action caused her to miss the look of hurt that flickered across his face. "Rebecca…" he began slowly, sitting back.

"Not now, Preston, please," she interrupted, not wishing to discuss their physical relationship, or lack thereof.

He sighed heavily, but chose not to pursue the matter any further, though it ached inside to know that she seemingly now found him so undesirable. "I'm afraid I have another meeting this morning, but it's such a beautiful day. Why don't you take a walk around the park?"

"Perhaps I will," she replied, eager for him to leave her alone. "Thank you," she forced a smile, "For breakfast and the earrings."

He smiled tightly back at her, "Well…I shall see you later."

Once he had left, Rebecca ate as much as she could stomach of the food and then rose to get dressed. As she removed her nightdress she winced at the tenderness of her breasts and her eyes burned with unshed tears at the tiny pinpricks of milk that appeared from her nipples. Once dressed, she decided to take Preston's advice and go to the park, much to Alice's surprise.

"Do you want some company?" she asked when Rebecca appeared in the parlour.

"No thank you," Rebecca said, waving the book she had selected from the library. "I thought I would walk and then read a while."

"The fresh air will do you good," Alice said with satisfaction and so Rebecca had left the confines of the house and breathed in the warm June air for the first time since her arrival.

The walk to the park was pleasant and once there, she found herself invigorated and proceeded to walk around the pond and watch as children fed the ducks that lived there. Despite her pain, she felt able to smile at their innocence and appreciate that, for some people, family life went on. Finally, she found a quiet spot under a large oak tree and, spreading the blanket she had brought with her, settled down to lose herself in Jane Austen's _Emma._ She had only read a few pages, however, when a familiar voice broke into her reverie.

"Rebecca!" A woman's voice called out, "Rebecca Lodge!"

Rebecca looked up and immediately felt her heart sink as she saw Helen O'Connor striding across the grass towards her, pushing a pram.

"How lovely to see you in Boston!" Helen exclaimed with faux sincerity. "I had heard you were back. You look far more accustomed to our fair city than I would have given you credit for I must say!" Rebecca tried to return her greeting, but her throat closed up and all she was able to do was nod. "I was so _dreadfully _sorry to hear your news."

"How did you know?" Rebecca asked stupidly.

"Preston's father spoke to my father at the club a few days ago and he told me," Helen's face took on a look of forced sympathy. "It must be a _terrible_ loss for you, for both of you. I can't imagine what I would have done if anything had happened to Jackson." She jiggled the pram in front of her almost for emphasis. "Still, it's nice to see you again. Do you intend staying long?"

"I…I don't know," was all Rebecca could say. "I'm just taking one day at a time."

"I see," Helen nodded, "Well I _do _hope that we'll see you at the opera sometime soon. You've been away from the city for so long that you must be longing for some culture. I must say it's all I can do to have an evening away from the rigours of motherhood." She flashed Rebecca a smile. "Good day!"

Rebecca watched as she walked away from her feeling nothing short of hatred for the other woman like she had never experienced before. Why should a woman like Helen O'Connor, a woman who was separated from her husband, have the privilege of a healthy child while she had lost hers? Any joy that she had might had had from her trip outside was now lost to her and so she gathered up her belongings and made her way out of the park and back towards the Lodges' house. She barely stopped to greet Alice before returning to her room and refusing lunch.

XXXX

"How's Rebecca this morning, Preston," James said as the two brothers sat enjoying their cigars and brandy in their father's club. "I thought she looked terribly pale the other night at dinner."

"I know," Preston replied, staring into his glass, "You don't have to tell me. It's so different from this time last year."

"Are you sure she's getting over it all right?"

Preston sighed, "We don't talk about it much. I find it…difficult…to know what to say." He refrained from adding that it came as no surprise to him that Rebecca was behaving as she was towards him. He could hardly blame her after everything that had happened.

James nodded understandingly. "I know what that's like. I didn't know whether to cry with Louisa or tell her to buck up." He shook his head. "Lord knows we shouldn't need to find ourselves in these situations."

"Have you spoken to Rebecca about your long term plans?" Preston Senior asked, joining the tail end of the conversation.

"Not yet."

"Don't you think you should?"

"Yes but…it has to be the right time. I don't know what she wants and it may be a difficult decision for her."

"Preston, as quaint and lovely as Colorado Springs is, you've bloomed since coming back here," his father continued. "You belong here, in the heart of business. And I don't say that in some attempt to keep you and Rebecca apart as I might once have," he reassured his son. "I am obviously referring to you both as man and wife. But, quite frankly with everything that's happened in Colorado Springs, what is there to keep you there?"

"It's our home, Father," Preston replied half-heartedly. "Though it didn't really feel that way the last few days we were there."

"It does get better," James said. "I know it doesn't feel like it now…"

"Does it?" Preston looked at his brother. "How do I make things better for her, James, when I feel that I'm the one who's done this to her in the first place?"

"Don't be ridiculous," James replied. "It's nature, Preston. You couldn't have prevented it anymore than I could."

"Couldn't I?" Preston said quietly. "I needn't have married her. I could have done what she originally wanted and leave her be. Perhaps she wouldn't be so unhappy now."

"Yes well…" Preston Senior blustered, clearly wishing to move the conversation back onto safer ground. "Too late to think like that now, son. As I've said to you before; ever forward."

Preston drained his glass miserably, wishing it was that easy. "Yes sir."

XXXX

"I must say I'm very tempted by the duck," Preston declared later that evening as he and Rebecca took their seats in _La Gardenia._ "It _is _supposed to be the best in the city. What about you?"

Rebecca had been looking at the menu but hadn't been taking in anything that was written on it. "I'm not sure," she said, "perhaps the chicken."

"You can have chicken any day of the week at Grace's," Preston said, "have something rather more exotic for once. It's not every day that we have the opportunity to dine in such splendid surroundings."

Rebecca put the menu down. "Why don't you order for me then?"

"Indeed I shall," Preston said, missing any sarcasm in her meaning. When the waiter returned he ordered two servings of duck. "I must say," he commented when they were alone again. "You are, by far, the most beautiful woman in here this evening. The dress and earrings suit you quite well." He reached over and folded her hands in his.

"Thank you." She looked down at his wedding ring glinting in the light.

"I was the luckiest man alive this time last year when you married me." Rebecca met his gaze, searching for any trace of ridicule in his expression and finding none. "I'd like to think that you felt the same." The earnestness of his tone only succeeded in causing her eyes to fill up with tears, an action that made Preston's face fall. "Rebecca…I'm trying…"

"Forgive me," she whispered, pulling her hands away from his, lifting her napkin and gently dabbing her eyes, willing the tears to regress. There was nothing she wanted less than to start crying in the middle of polite Bostonian society. She coughed to cover her embarrassment and took a long drink from her wine glass. "I'm fine," she said after a few moments.

"I had hoped…" Preston said slowly, "That the dress, the earrings, coming here tonight might, in some small way, help make up…"

"Nothing can make up for what we've lost, Preston," Rebecca interrupted.

"No," he agreed. "No, it can't."

"I met Helen today."

Preston sighed, "I see."

"She offered me…us…her condolences though I could tell that she relished every moment." Rebecca paused as the waiter reappeared with their plates. "Even from her position as a woman separated from her husband, with her child's parentage in question, she believes herself to be superior because she has a healthy child and I…" she broke off as tears sprang into her eyes again. "I'm sorry…I'm not sure that I…"

"Darling…"

"Would you please excuse me for a moment?" Rebecca pushed her chair back from the table and hurried away.

Preston had only managed to get halfway off of his seat before she disappeared and he hovered, wondering what he should do. Eventually, he sat back down to wait, but found that he couldn't muster the enthusiasm to eat anything. H e had hoped that spending the evening together might have somehow helped to bridge the gap that seemed to have grown between them over the last few weeks and assuage the terrible guilt that he felt. He knew that he hadn't spent enough time with her since they arrived in Boston, leaving her alone most days to talk business with his father, but it was in so doing that he was able to forget about what had happened and the part he had played in it. He also hadn't failed to notice that Rebecca had not protested at his frequent absence.

Every time he allowed his mind to wander, he saw his wife, terrified and in pain, giving birth to their child while, all the time, he had lain unconscious in the next room. Reassuring her that she was not to blame for what had happened only compounded his feelings that he was. At night, when he lay beside her, he wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, but the thought of what she had gone through stopped him and, in any event, he was terrified that she might push him away.

"Is everything all right, sir?" the waiter reappeared at his side, clearly concerned that the best food in Boston was going untouched.

"Yes thank you," he replied, "My wife…well…she isn't feeling well, that's all."

"Is there anything else that I can get for you?"

"No, thank you."

At that moment, Rebecca returned to the table. "I'm sorry," she said, sitting back down opposite him, her eyes red from crying.

"If you would rather simply go back to the house, I would understand," Preston said.

"No," she replied, lifting her cutlery. "No, it's our anniversary and you were right that we should celebrate it." They ate the meal in relative silence and then made their way to the opera house for the evening production. "Do I look all right?" Rebecca asked as they drew up outside.

Preston looked at her, her face neatly pressed into place, no trace of the anguish he had seen moments earlier. "You look beautiful," he said, his heart splintering at the thought of the pain that he had caused her. Once inside, they met various people that he knew and greeted them accordingly. Rebecca played her part well, he alone able to recognise the deadness in her eyes. It wasn't one of the better productions, Henry's opinion clearly of no value, and he was relieved when it was over and they were in the carriage returning home.

"Did you have a nice evening?" Alice asked when they arrived back at the house.

"Yes thank you," Rebecca replied.

"The performance was not particularly good," Preston said conversationally.

"Henry said he thought it was spectacular!" Alice said. "What did you think, Rebecca?"

"It was…it was all right," she replied. "I'm very tired now though, so if you wouldn't mind excusing me…" She left the drawing room and made her way upstairs, Preston close behind her. Once in their bedroom, she moved over to the vanity table and began unpinning her hair.

"I'm sorry," Preston said, closing the door behind him. "I didn't mean for the evening to be so un-enjoyable."

"It's not your fault," Rebecca replied.

"I fear it is," he persisted. "There I was trying to force you to celebrate our marriage when I can't help thinking that we should never have married at all."

Rebecca paused in what she was doing and turned to face him, "What?"

"It's true, isn't it?" he searched her face. "If we had never married, you wouldn't be so unhappy."

"It's not…I mean I'm not…" she fought for the right words, "It's not being married to you that has made me unhappy, Preston. It's…it's the situation we find ourselves in. All I can think about is what we should have now…our daughter."

"And I will never be able to forgive myself for the fact that we don't." It was the first time he had declared his feelings in her presence and he watched the look of amazement cross her face.

"_You _will never be able to forgive yourself?" Rebecca exclaimed, "_I'm _the one who couldn't give her life. I'm the one who shouldn't be forgiven!"

"And I'm the one who made you go through it all," he stepped towards her. "I think about how I should never have allowed you to become pregnant in the first place…how you told me at the beginning that you could never risk having a child…"

"But it was my selfishness that led to my pregnancy, Preston. You told me I shouldn't have done it and I didn't listen…" she interrupted.

"But then I stopped you from having the abortion."

"You stopped that for a reason."

"But was it the right reason?" he searched her face. "I'll never know now, will I?" Rebecca looked away. "Then I think that if I hadn't caught that _damn_ influenza from Walter Mason I wouldn't have been sick and you wouldn't have been worried about me and you wouldn't have gone into labour so soon and it's _my _fault that it happened!" he thumped the bedpost for emphasis.

"That _isn't _your fault!" she exclaimed. "I would most likely have gone into labour early whether you'd been sick or not!"

"Again, you don't know that!" he persisted. "I should at_ least_ have been there for you when you must have been so frightened and I wasn't and for that I will _never_ be able to forgive myself! And when I see you now so upset, barely able to look at me and so unwilling to let me touch you in any way…"

"I can't let you touch me," she said, "I can't because I know where it would lead and I…I don't have the body of a woman anymore. I have the body of a mother without a child! My stomach is still swollen and my breasts are producing milk and I have a pain between my legs with no baby to distract me from it! I just…don't know what to do with myself…" she sank down on the chair beside the vanity table and covered her face with her hands. "And it's all I can do not to spend every minute of every day crying…" With that, she burst into tears and he watched her helplessly.

"Do you think that I don't want you?" he asked.

"You say that I won't let you touch me," she said, "but you haven't really tried to, have you?"

"I…" he stuttered, "I want to but…I don't want to hurt you and I'm afraid that if I try to hold you that…that you would push me away. I don't know what to do for the best, Rebecca."

"I don't want you to leave me even though I know you would be better off…" she sniffed.

"I could never leave you," he replied thickly.

"You could have any other woman you wanted," she continued. "A woman who could give you a living, breathing child. I told you that before we got married. Why didn't you listen to me then? Why put yourself through all this misery that I have caused you by being like…like this?"

"Because I love you!" he replied. "None of this is your fault, Rebecca. It's my fault and for that…for that you could always leave me."

"I can't…"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. Perhaps you would be happier."

"No!" she half-screamed, lifting her head and looking at him through streaming eyes. I would be miserable, but if you left me it would be what I would deserve!"

"How can you say that? How can you say that you deserve that? Neither of us deserves that!" he shot back, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything, child or no child!"

Rebecca looked at him, really looked at him, more than she had done over the last few weeks and saw that her husband, the man she loved, the father of her child, was hurting too. She had no right to horde all the pain. They had to share it and help each other with the guilt. She rose from the seat and hurried across the room towards him where he pulled her into his arms and they held each other for a long time. "It's not your fault…"she cried into his shoulder. "You couldn't help being sick."

"Oh my darling, my darling…" Preston pulled back and kissed her face, tasting the saltiness of her tears. "It's not your fault either and I could never think that about you, never. Nor could I ever want anyone else."

"I don't want to leave," she whispered.

"I would never want you to go," he replied, brushing away her tears. "You belong with me. You always have."

They kissed, more passionately this time, and slowly moved back towards the bed, sinking down on it, their mouths still locked together, while Preston slowly unfastened the bow detail at the front of her dress. "Preston…" she flinched slightly at his touch.

"Sssh," he reassured her, his mouth moving from hers, down her throat to bite and suckle gently at the juncture of her throat and collarbone. He heard her gasp slightly above him, her fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt. "Stand up," he said, meeting her confused gaze. She did as he asked and he pulled her to stand between his thighs as he slowly removed the rest of the dress' fittings until it fell to the floor at her feet. Then, reaching up, he let her slip fall from her shoulders until she stood naked in front of him. He took in the body that she seemed so wary of, the slight protruding of her stomach, the veins that stood out on her breasts and the faint trace of milk he could see hovering on her nipple. She made to turn away but he stopped her. "Why would you think I wouldn't want to see this?" he asked softly.

"Because it's a reminder of what we don't have," Rebecca replied shakily.

Preston pulled her down so that she sat astride him and kissed her again, his mouth exploring hers hungrily while his hands skimmed up her body and over her breasts, causing her to whimper against his mouth. Seemingly reluctantly, she pulled back, her face more alive than he had seen in weeks, yet still marred with worry. "You haven't changed as far as I'm concerned," he told her. "You are my wife. The woman I love more than any other. I still want you as badly now as I always have and the thought of any other man being privileged enough to have this, to have you, still creates an unquenchable jealousy in me."

Rebecca lifted one of his hands and pressed it against her cheek, feeling warmed and soothed by his touch in a way she had worried she never would. "It's too soon," she whispered. "Physically…"

"I know," he whispered back. "But whenever you're ready, I'll be here."


	44. Chapter 44

**Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews and I'm so glad that you're still enjoying it. I have to warn you that this chapter is a little smutty so...those of a sensitive disposition stop reading now!!!**

Preston woke the following morning feeling tired and groggy, no doubt as a direct result of the emotion of the previous evening. After they had talked, he and Rebecca had fallen into an exhausted sleep, but she had slept in his arms for the first time in as many weeks and for that he felt grateful.

For a while when he woke, he lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Rebecca's even breathing beside him. She was laid on her stomach, her face turned away, her hair cascading over the pillow. He rolled over and watched her for a while before leaning over, pulling her hair back and dropping a soft kiss on her neck, causing her to stir and moan.

"Good morning," he greeted her quietly.

She mumbled a response and rolled over to face him, her eyes still welded shut against the morning sunshine. He kissed her forehead, eyelids, nose and down to her mouth, which she opened willingly for him. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes and regarded him sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Early."

"Then why did you wake me?" she moaned, rubbing her eyes.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right." She stopped the action and looked at him. "I'm sorry," he looked down. "I just…"

"I'm all right," she said softly.

"And us?" he asked, looking back at her, "Are we all right?"

"Preston, last night…I thought that we…"

"I know," he said quickly, "but I can't help feeling that…"

"What?"

He shook his head and flopped over onto his back, sighing heavily in the process. "I don't know. When I think about everything that's happened…it doesn't feel real somehow."

"I know," Rebecca propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. "I feel the same. But as long as we're committed to staying together then surely we can overcome anything. Isn't that what our marriage vows were all about?"

Preston looked at her, "Yes," he replied, "yes they were."

"Well then."

He searched her face, the sleepiness of her eyes, the way he hair fell over her face, the swell of her breast that he could see through her nightshirt. "I do love you."

"I love you too," she lowered herself down and kissed him while his hand wandered to her breast, gently pressing it through her nightshirt. Suddenly, he pulled his hand back. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied quickly.

She looked down to her chest and saw two damp patches on her nightshirt. "I wish it would stop," she said miserably. "I wish my body would realise that there's no child to feed."

Preston put his fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him. "It _will_ stop. You just need to give it time."

He cupped her face and she leaned her face into his palm, "Do you think your mother would mind if I had another bath this morning? I just feel as though I need to…" she didn't want to spell out that, however natural it was, it made her feel dirty.

"Of course she won't," Preston replied. "I'll have Lily draw one for you before breakfast." He pushed the covers back and climbed out of the bed.

Rebecca made to follow suit but when she got to her feet, she felt the blackness start to descend on her. At first, she wasn't sure what it was, it having been so long since her last attack, but then she heard her heartbeat slow in her ears and knew exactly what it was. She looked round to see if Preston had noticed but he had already seemingly left the room. Gripping onto the bedpost, she tried to regulate her breathing as the buzzing started in her ears. Then, moving as quickly as she could over to the vanity table, she opened the drawer and pulled out the vial of digitalis she kept there. Taking a few drops, she instantly started to feel better and her vision cleared again.

"Lily will be with you in a moment," Preston said, returning to the room and causing her to jump.

"Oh, thank you," she said, opening the drawer again and slipping the vial back in.

"What's that?" Preston asked, coming to stand beside her.

"Nothing," she replied quickly.

He opened the drawer and looked at the vial nestling on some handkerchiefs. "Did you have an attack?" he queried.

"Only a very mild one," she tried to reassure him.

"You should lie down," he instructed, taking her arm and trying to pull her back towards the bed.

"I'm fine…"

"It's only been a few weeks since the birth and you're not strong enough yet," he said, "you really _must _lie down."

"Preston!" she pulled her arm away from him. "I'm fine, honestly. It was very mild and I'm feeling better already. Please," she put her hand on his arm. He didn't look convinced. "I'll have my bath and I'll feel much better." She looked at him beseechingly.

Preston nodded, "All right, as you wish." At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Lily the maid entered. "I'll leave you to relax." He lifted his clothes from the chair and left the room.

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed waiting while Lily filled the bathtub. Once she was done and had left again, she pulled off her nightshirt, dropped it onto the floor and stepped into the warmth, sinking down until the bubbles were at her neck. Soaping a flannel, she washed herself and then closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she relaxed.

After a few minutes, she thought she heard a noise and, starting, opened her eyes to find Preston standing watching her, fully dressed, a cup and saucer in his hand. "Oh…" she said, unconsciously sliding further down into the water. "You startled me."

"I'm sorry," he apologised stepping closer. "I thought you should have some tea." He set the cup and saucer down on the nightstand and then stepped back again.

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully at him. "I'm feeling better. Please stop worrying about me."

"That is something I will never be able to do. Would you like me to leave?" he asked after a moment's silence.

"No," she said hurriedly. "Stay." He drew a chair up alongside and sat hunched forwards, his elbows resting against his knees. "Your mother didn't mind, did she?"

"Of course not," he replied. "She _did _want to know if you were intending on accompanying her to the ladies' circle this afternoon, however."

Rebecca looked away, "Do I have to?"

"It might do you some good to get out for a while and speak to other people. Some fresh air might help your constitution too. They're not talking about you," he added, seeing her expression.

"Helen is part of the ladies' circle," Rebecca said. "How could they fail to talk about me? I'm sure she spends most of her time delighting in down crying me to anyone who'll listen."

"Are you honestly going to allow Helen O'Connor to keep you prisoner in this house?" Preston asked her. "That's not the Rebecca Lodge I know."

"Perhaps you don't know her as well as you think," she replied pettily. Preston sighed and made to stand up, but she reached out and grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Please don't go." He sat back down again. "You're right, I know you're right. I can't allow her, or anyone, to stop me from going about my daily life."

"Exactly."

"I'm not the first woman this has happened to nor will I presumably be the last." She looked up at him, somewhat comforted by his presence. "Would you be scandalised if I asked you to wash my back for me? I don't seem to have the energy to reach."

"Of course not," Preston unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and pulled them up beyond his elbows. Then he knelt on the floor beside the tub and lifted the flannel. Wetting and soaping it, he ran it over her back, causing her to sigh and lean back against his touch.

"Thank you," she said.

"It's an honour," he joked. "What man could be more privileged than I at this moment?"

Rebecca laughed as he brought the flannel over her shoulders and she looked up to meet his gaze. "Not every man would do it."

"Then any man who wouldn't is a fool," Preston replied, lowering his head and kissing her gently. She kissed him back and, switching the flannel from his left to his right hand, he moved it around her shoulder and over her collarbone, squeezing it to allow the excess water to roll down her chest before moving it lower.

Rebecca pulled back, "I only asked you to do my back," she reminded him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "would you like me to stop?"

"No," she said, "but perhaps there is something else…?"

Dropping the flannel back into the water, Preston put his hands on her instead. Cupping her face with his left, he allowed his right to slip under the water, move along her stomach and reach up to cup her breast, his thumb trailing over her nipple. "Like that?" he asked huskily.

Rebecca nodded and reached up to pull his mouth down to hers. She groaned softly as he pinched her flesh, his touch sending spasms to her lower body, and she bit down gently on his earlobe and neck, pulling open the top buttons of his shirt in the process.

Preston leaned further over the tub and moved his mouth to her breast, his tongue slowly circling the nipple before closing his mouth around it, laving it as though it were dipped in rich honey. Rebecca let out a sharp cry and wriggled her body closer to the side, manoeuvring slightly over onto her side so his hand could reach over and trace the curve of her buttock. "Lower…" she gasped against his neck, feeling her abdomen pulsate, "lower…"

He moved his hand around her buttock, and between her easily parted thighs, to the softness there. As he did so, he could feel himself straining painfully against the constriction of his underclothes, desperate to feel her touch. Rebecca cried out again as his fingers slowly worked her, and she pulled harder at his shirt, causing several buttons to ping off in the process. She pulled herself up into a kneeling position, allowing water to slide off of her body and slosh over the side of the tub. Preston groaned appreciatively as she hitched one knee up onto the cool steel enabling him greater access to her sensitive folds. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her wet body against his and, unable to take any more, he pulled back from her, causing her to let out a tiny moan of disapproval, and began tearing at his own clothes.

Rebecca made to climb out of the tub but he stopped her with a strangled, "No!"

"Preston…" Rebecca said, watching him wide-eyed as his intention dawned on her. "I'm not sure…" she tailed off as he threw his shirt to one side, followed by his pants and underpants. "Do you intend…?" It soon became clear that he did, as he appeared naked in front of her and then made to climb in beside her. "I'm not sure that there's enough room…" she protested, despite instinctively lowering herself into the water again, anticipating him.

Before she could finish her thought, he was in beside her, on top of her, causing more water to splash over the sides of the tub onto the rug. His mouth found hers again, hot and insistent, and she found she had neither the energy, nor the inclination, to resist him. He broke away from her and moved his mouth down her throat and then to her breasts again, where she found herself arching her back towards him and curling her leg around his. Despite everything that had happened to her, to them, she found she still craved the physical attention she had previously tried hard to avoid.

He moved lower still, his tongue trailing down her ribcage, over her belly button and to the juncture of her thighs. Rebecca's breath caught in her throat, but suddenly, he stopped and raised his head to look at her. "Forgive me," he said.

"What for?" she asked stupidly, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

"There's not as much room as I had thought." He rose quickly and stepped out of the tub, then knelt at the side again, pulling her over to him before she could say anything else. Kissing her, he pulled her up and awkwardly out of the tub so that she rolled over and under him onto the rug.

"What on earth…?" she laughed. But she had little time to query him further. Again, he moved down her body, over her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. But this time, he didn't stop. His head dipped between her legs and it wasn't until she felt a white hot sensation flood her that she realised what he was doing. She groaned loudly as his tongue gently flicked around her most sensitive spot, her breath almost taken clean away by the very action. "Preston…" she breathed raggedly. "What…I…" speech failed her as the sensations continued to course through her. "Oh…Lord…" She arched her lower body upward and gripped the rug beneath her tightly between her fingers.

To Preston, she tasted sweeter than he could ever have imagined. Glancing up, he saw her looking down at him, confusion and desire flooding her features. She didn't understand what he was doing to her or why and that thought excited him more than anything. Inwardly, he thanked James for the conversation they had had some weeks earlier after too much brandy. At the time, the content of it had shocked him but now, seeing the results, he had to admit that his older brother had been right…

"Preston…"

Her body was starting to spasm and he knew that her pleasure was building. The strength of his own need was almost unbearable, so he slid back up her body, his mouth finding hers again and catching the breath of her cry.

"Rebecca…" he groaned her name as he peppered her face with kisses, "sweet, wonderful Rebecca…" he lifted his eyes to her again. "I want nothing more than to…but I can still stop if you feel it's too soon…"

"I believe the recommended time to wait is six weeks," she replied breathlessly, whilst simultaneously wrapping her legs around his back. "But…" she was almost ashamed to admit how badly she too wanted him. Wanted things to go back to the way they had been.

"But?" he pressed her, aching for the release but needing that final consent.

"Oh my darling…" she reached up and pulled him down to her, her fingers knotting in his hair, pulling him as close to her as she could. She felt Preston move slightly, allowing himself a better angle and she waited, poised and ready for the moment when she would feel her beloved husband slip gently inside her…

"Rebecca? Rebecca dear? I jus thought I'd come and check…oh my!"

Preston leapt off of Rebecca at the sound of Alice's voice and they both looked up to see her staring down at them in horror.

"Mother!" Preston exclaimed, grabbing the towel lying from beside the tub and covering them both.

"Oh my!" Alice turned her back. "I didn't mean…well I didn't realise that you were…I just wondered if you were coming this afternoon but I see that you're…well…"

"Alice," Rebecca began, "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"Not to worry, not to worry!" Alice replied breezily. "I'll just leave you…well…perhaps I'll see you later…" with that, she hurried out of the room, letting the door bang behind her.

For a moment neither Preston nor Rebecca spoke, but simply sat with their backs against the tub, still caught up in the shock of what Alice had just witnessed.

"I…" Preston said.

"Yes," Rebecca replied.

"We should…I mean I should…"

"Indeed." She watched as he got awkwardly to his feet and stumbled over to the bed, covering himself with his clothes. Rebecca covered herself with the towel. "I can't believe that your mother just saw…" she broke off and started to laugh.

"A few moments later…" Preston replied.

"Mmm…" Rebecca stood up and wrapped the towel around her before moving over to the bed beside him. "Tell me," she said, "that…thing…"

"What thing?" he asked, as he started to get dressed again.

"You know precisely to what I am referring."

He turned to look at her and she raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Ah, _that_ thing," he teased. "You're not the only one able to shock, you know." He started to button his shirt only to realise that several buttons were missing. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked, moving over to the closet to fetch another.

"It almost seems immoral to answer." He turned back to see her sprawled languorously on the bed. "It's surely a pity to waste the moment though. Do you want to finish what you started…?"

He smiled. "My darling, as attractive as I find you, unfortunately, I fear the moment has somewhat passed. Perhaps…if you are not too tired tonight after the ladies' circle…?" He stopped, leaving the sentiment hanging in the air.

Rebecca sighed dramatically. "I suppose I shall just have to wait. Although, I must say, if the ladies' circle didn't have anything to talk about before then, given what your mother just witnessed, they certainly have now!"

He smiled lovingly at her, "I love you."

She smiled back at him, feeling for the first time in weeks, a sense of, if not happiness, then contentment. "I love you too."


	45. Chapter 45

**Sorry for the long time between updates! On a bit of a Preston-episode binge at the moment! Please read and review xx**

The journey was undertaken in relative silence, Rebecca rather afraid to even look at her mother-in-law for fear of her reaction. After witnessing what she had, Alice had absented herself from Rebecca's company that morning and when they had met in the parlour in the early afternoon to make their way to the ladies' circle, the atmosphere had been somewhat strained.

The meeting of the ladies circle was being held in the home of Elizabeth Drake, a well-to-do and well-known woman from Beacon Hill, whose large home was a short carriage ride away from the Lodges'. Neither Alice nor Rebecca had spoken since being helped into the carriage by the footman but the latter was keen to try and make amends, despite her embarrassment.

"Alice…" she started slowly, "I want to apologise for earlier. It was completely…"

"Nothing to worry about," Alice interrupted dismissively. "I've quite forgotten all about it."

"Yes…" Rebecca didn't quite believe her, "but I wanted you to know that…well Preston and I…we don't normally behave as if…I mean, we would never take advantage…"

"My dear," Alice looked at her, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth, "you don't have to apologise. If anything, I should be the one who is sorry for barging into your room without knocking and waiting to be admitted." She reached over and patted Rebecca's hand. "I'm just glad that you and Preston appeared to be reconnecting. I was worried about you for a time when you first arrived."

"You were?"

"Of course I was. I could see how far apart from each other you were and how you both seemed to blame yourself for what happened to Caroline. I was afraid that you might find it too much of an obstacle to overcome. But I am reassured by what I saw this morning, even if it was something _not _meant for my eyes."

Rebecca smiled, "I'm glad."

"Oh, here we are!" Alice announced as the carriage drew to a sudden halt. "I haven't seen Elizabeth since she returned from England last month, so it will be nice to hear all her news. I have so often dreamt of seeing London."

Rebecca followed her mother-in-law out of the carriage and looked up in awe at the house before her. It was bigger than any other house she had ever seen with blooms at every window and a large, ornate front door guarded on either side by two well-dressed footmen. Instinctively, she looked down at her pale green dress and worried that it wasn't suitable enough for such a visit.

The footmen bowed to both ladies and opened the door which led into a large, marble-floored vestibule with all manner of exquisite paintings adorning the walls. A large, deep mahogany staircase spiralled upwards at the far end and a crystal chandelier hung down from the ceiling completing the look of undisguised wealth.

"Alice!" Rebecca turned to see an older woman come hurrying out of an adjoining room, her arms open to receive her friend. "How lovely to see you again!" She and Alice kissed on each cheek. "You're looking lovely, my dear."

"Thank you Elizabeth," Alice replied, stepping back and gesturing to Rebecca, "Elizabeth, this is my daughter-in-law Rebecca."

Rebecca only just managed to stop herself from curtsying and accepted the other woman's outstretched hand. "Of course," Elizabeth smiled broadly, "You must be Preston's wife."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rebecca replied, handing her bonnet to a gentleman who suddenly appeared at her side.

"How nice that you decided to come along to our gathering while you're in the city," Elizabeth continued, "please, both you of you come through." She turned and led them through the door and into the drawing room where a number of other ladies had already gathered. She introduced them, but Rebecca knew she would never remember their names. "This is Mrs Helen O'Connor and, of course, you know Mary…"

Rebecca paused as she caught sight of the last two women to be introduced. Helen was sitting nearest the window, a dress of pale yellow highlighting the blonde of her hair, a fine china cup in her hand and a supercilious smile on her face. Next to her, was Rebecca's sister-in-law Mary, Peter's wife, whom she had only had the misfortune to require to dine with on two occasions in the past.

"Mary, darling…" Alice bent and kissed her other daughter-in-law before taking the vacant seat next to her. "Rebecca dear, do sit down," she gestured to the chair next to Helen.

Slowly, Rebecca moved towards it and sat down, wishing with all her heart that she had decided not to come.

"It's lovely to see you again, Rebecca," Helen said, "it's high time you got out of that house. You can't stay locked away forever, can she Mary?"

Rebecca's gaze moved to her sister-in-law whose look of contempt could hardly be missed. "Of course not," Mary replied. "There isn't much to do indoors all day."

"Oh but Rebecca is a great reader, aren't you?" Helen said. "And the Lodges' do have an extensive library, don't they?"

"I've certainly managed to amuse myself, thank you," Rebecca replied as evenly as she could. She looked past Mary to try and elicit some help from Alice but she was engaged in conversation with another woman.

"And how are you feeling now?" Helen asked. "You were terribly pale that day I saw you in the park, but I do believe that you have a little more colour today."

"I'm feeling better, thank you."

"I heard that you and Preston attended the opera last night," she continued.

"I see that not much escapes your notice, Helen," Rebecca replied.

Helen's gaze flickered slightly at the veiled insult, "Indeed," she replied. "Well, for all its size, Boston is a fairly close-knit community. Word gets around."

"I hardly see how my attending the opera with my husband would make for interesting gossip," Rebecca accepted some tea from Elizabeth's maid with a smile.

"Oh it wasn't so much that," Helen continued, accepting another cup, "it was more you dashing from the table in _La Gardenia _before so much as eating a mouthful that caught the city's attention."

Rebecca froze, cup halfway to mouth, as Mary tried, and failed, to cover a snort of laughter.

"Was there something wrong with the food?" Helen asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

"No," Rebecca replied, as controlled as she could. "It was fine, thank you."

"Then what on earth would make you leap out of your seat and take to your heels?" Mary asked. "I heard that the whole restaurant was quite shocked."

"I didn't notice," Rebecca replied through gritted teeth.

"No, you wouldn't have," Helen said. "You would have been too busy running." She and Mary laughed again and Rebecca was only prevented from hurling an insult in return by Elizabeth starting to speak and bring the meeting to order.

For the next half hour, she tried to feign interest in whatever it was Elizabeth was talking about, but found she couldn't and indeed, immediately after the other woman had finished talking, found that she was completely unable to remember what the topic of conversation had been. Instead, she found herself cursing the two women next to her under her breath. Helen's bold assertiveness never ceased to amaze her, given her own situation. As for Mary, well Rebecca thought little of her anyway given that she was so like her husband and Peter had never exactly endeared himself to her.

It was soon time for more tea and a selection of cakes and sandwiches which Elizabeth's maid brought through, allowing the women to mingle and help themselves. Rebecca, eager to get away from her tormentors, made her way quickly to the table to obtain more tea and try and engage Alice in some form of conversation, but Helen and Mary followed her and her mother-in-law was too busy talking to another group of ladies.

"Tell me, Rebecca," Helen said standing, as she was, close behind her, "what _are _your chances of conceiving again? I mean, it must be difficult after losing a child in such tragic circumstances to even consider the possibility. A woman needs to be of a strong constitution to bear children, particularly sons." She glanced sideways at Rebecca, "And of course, we all know that is what men want, even if they do deny it. Especially a man like Preston," she added, "Coming from a family of five brothers, it would only be natural."

"We can't all be as fortunate as you, Helen," Rebecca said, trying valiantly to hold her tongue.

"Yes, I _was_ lucky in having Jackson. He really is a handsome boy and quite the apple of my eye."

"It's simply a shame he has no father, isn't it?" The words were out before Rebecca could stop them and she momentarily felt a cold wave of shame course through her. But then she saw Helen's face and the feeling was replaced by one of sweet revenge.

Helen stared at her, "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you _are _still separated from your husband, are you not?" Rebecca asked. "And I understand that the gossip at the time was that your husband wasn't the father of your child. It's funny how you've forgotten that in your pursuit of ridicule."

"Rebecca!" Mary exclaimed, her face the picture of horror.

"At least my child had a recognised father and at least I have a husband that I am still living with," Rebecca ignored her sister-in-law, enjoying the look on Helen's face. "There can be no talk of _my _situation. And at least I am not some bitter, twisted old _bitch _who cannot seem to move past the rejection she received all these years ago now and spends her time delighting in making the most of other people's misfortune!"

"How dare you!" Helen spluttered.

"How dare _I? _How dare _you!_" Rebecca shot back. "You've done nothing but try to make me feel worthless and inadequate since the moment you realised that Preston loved me and not you. And my misfortune has only succeeded in giving you ample ammunition to throw at me. Well let me tell you something," she stepped closer to the other woman, "I'm tired of your games and your snide little remarks. They only show you up to be the uneducated, ill-bred, morally questionable woman that you are. And as for _you,_" she turned to Mary, "I haven't so much as seen a _hint _of a child in your immediate future and you've been married a lot longer than I have. So you might want to hold your tongue in future!" With that, she turned away from them and moved over to where Alice was standing.

"Rebecca," her mother-in-law greeted her, "I'd like you to meet Mrs Worthington."

"How do you do," Rebecca said politely, "Alice, I'm sorry but I have a dreadful headache. Would you mind if I slipped away? I don't want to be impolite…"

"Of course not," Alice reassured her, "Have them bring the carriage for you and then you can send it back later."

"No, no," Rebecca replied, "I'd really rather walk. I think the fresh air might do me some good."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"I am thank you. And please thank Mrs Drake for inviting me." Without wanting to incur further questioning, Rebecca made her way out of the room, retrieved her bonnet and stepped out into the cool afternoon air. As she began the walk back to the Lodges', she let out a long shaky breath and replayed the conversation with Helen and Mary in her head. It had felt so satisfying to finally say what she had been longing to for weeks, but with the heat of the moment having passed, she wondered if it had been the right thing to do. No doubt Mary would tell Peter and then it would get back to Preston and his father and she found herself not at all sure that they would be pleased with her. Then she thought about how both women had gone out of their way to make her feel unworthy and unwanted and she felt more sure than ever that she had done the right thing.

When she arrived back at the house, it was in virtual silence, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. "Is my husband here?" she asked Lily who greeted her at the door.

"Yes ma'am, he's in the study with the master," Lily replied.

"Thank you." Rebecca made her way along the corridor to where her father-in-law kept his study, a large, forbidding room that she had only been in once before when she had got lost. As she approached the door, she could hear the sound of voices, one of which she recognised as being Preston's.

"Come in," his father said when she knocked on the door.

Pushing it open, she stepped inside to see Preston, James and their father sat around the large desk in the corner which was strewn with papers. "I'm sorry to intrude," she said.

"You're not," Preston said, getting to his feet. "We didn't expect you and Mother back for another few hours."

"I came away early," she explained. "I wasn't feeling very well. Your mother is still at Mrs Drake's but she said she would be home in time for supper." She paused. "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course," Preston replied, following her out of the study and along the corridor into the parlour. "You look a little pale, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, turning to face him. "But I want to go home."

He looked at her uncomprehendingly, "I don't…"

"I want to go home," she repeated, "to Colorado Springs, to our house…I don't want to stay in Boston any longer, Preston. I don't belong here anymore."

"You've only been here a matter of weeks," he replied, "and you've spent most of that time here in the house. I thought that once you got out…"

"To the ladies' circle?" she looked at him. "It was one of the most…insufferable afternoons of my life having to sit and listen to a conversation in which I had no interest, not to mention having to put up with Helen and Mary making me feel…" she broke off.

"Making you feel what?"

Rebecca sat down in one of the chairs. "We had words."

"Who had words?" Preston asked, sitting down opposite her.

"I did, with Helen and Mary. They were both _delighting _in making me feel like I had no business being there that I just couldn't help myself. I told Helen that she was a bitter, twisted old bitch and…"

"You said what?" Preston stared at her agog.

"Don't pretend that you haven't thought it yourself."

"Well…yes but…I mean…I wouldn't…"

"Well I've said it now so if you want to be angry with me, go ahead and be angry with me, Preston, but I really don't care! I'm tired of that woman thinking that she can say whatever she likes to me and never getting any response. And as for Mary…well she's clearly been taking lessons from your brother." Rebecca shook her head. "We will never escape these people as long as we remain here and I don't want to, not any longer. There's a train tomorrow afternoon. Please, please say we can go home." She leaned over and clasped his hands in hers.

"That's what I wanted to talk with you about anyway," Preston replied. "Father, James and I have been doing a lot of talking over the last few weeks and they're both very keen for me to come back to National Trust. We've been discussing ways to take the bank forwards and I have some good ideas and…well…" he looked at her, "it would mean staying here in Boston."

Rebecca stared at him, "How long for?"

"Well…permanently."

"But what about your bank back home?"

"Mr Foster has been doing an excellent job keeping things going whilst we've been here," he replied, "and he did say he was thinking about a permanent move to the west when I offered him the position."

"But you left your father's bank on a point of principle," Rebecca reminded him.

"Yes, which no longer exists," he said. "The whole point of my leaving was because Father wouldn't accept my feelings for you. Now that he has, there's no reason why things couldn't go back to the way they were before I left."

"I thought you loved Colorado Springs."

"I do, but…now I could have the best of both worlds; my work here and you here with me. I'm not saying we have to sell our house. We could keep it and visit from time to time."

Rebecca got to her feet, pulling her hands out of his and walking over to the window. "And what about Caroline?" she asked. "What about our daughter buried in the cemetery there? You're suggesting that we just leave her there alone?"

"It wouldn't be like that," he reassured her. "I'm sure that Michaela and Sully would make sure that her grave was well tended."

"So you'd rather forget that she existed?"

"Of course not! I'm just saying…"

"Only last night, Preston, we were talking about how much she meant to us and what we had lost and now…now you want to just forget all of that?" she turned back to look at him. "Where would we live?"

"There are a number of eminent properties on the market at the moment. I'm sure we would have no trouble finding something that would suit us both."

"And what would I do all day while you worked at the bank?"

"Whatever you wanted to, darling," he came and stood beside her.

"Could I get a job?"

He hesitated, "Well, I…"

"So the answer to that would be no."

"Rebecca, you've hardly given me a chance to explain all of the benefits of remaining in Boston," he persisted. "You've not even given it any consideration."

"Because all of the benefits will be for you," she replied. "The bank, being with your family, being in polite Bostonian society again. What do I get out of it, Preston? Seeing Helen and Mary everywhere I go? Being kept indoors with nothing to do except entertain while you spend all day every day working?"

"You're being a little quick to judge…"

"And what if I say no?" she glared at him defiantly. Preston looked lost for words, as though he hadn't even really considered that as a possibility. "What if I say that I don't want to stay here?"

"I…"

"Tell me!"

"I don't know, Rebecca!" he snapped. "I had hoped that you might see this the same way that I do, as an opportunity for both of us to make a fresh start away from all those…those memories that are waiting for us back in Colorado. You might think it a welcome notion to go back there but how will you feel when you step off of the train and all those feelings come back? When you remember all that's happened there?"

"I can handle it!" she replied angrily. "I've thought long and hard about everything since we've been here and despite everything that's happened, I know that I will be much happier there than I ever will be here! Perhaps you're just afraid of how _you'll _feel!" She saw a flicker cross his face and her temper immediately dissipated as she feared she's reached the nub of the issue. "Preston…" she moved closer to him and put her hands on his shoulders, "it would be the easiest thing in the world to hide here and never go back. But we have a life there, jobs there, friends there…coming here was the right thing to do at the time but it's time to go home. Besides…" she moved closer to him and brushed her lips against his, "there's no privacy in this house…"

Preston chuckled lightly and pressed his lips against her forehead before drawing her into his arms. "I just want…" he broke off.

"Me," she finished for him, pulling back and looking up at him, "and I want you. But I want you in Colorado Springs, not Boston." She kissed him lightly, tugging gently on his lower lip.

"Why do I feel as though you've already gotten your way?" Preston murmured, catching her mouth with his and pulling her close to him.

"No, no," Rebecca whispered, sliding her hand down his stomach to the waistband of his pants and then lower, "this has to be a decision that you come to with no interference from me." They kissed again, "It has to be what you want."

"What I want right now isn't fit to be mentioned in public," he replied, his breath hot on her neck.

"Well then," Rebecca grinned, stepping away from him and holding out her hand, "perhaps we should keep it for the privacy of the bedroom."


	46. Chapter 46

**Sorry for the delay, as usual! Please keep reading and reviewing!**

**September 1872**

**Colorado Springs**

Rebecca placed the flowers on her daughter's grave and then stood back to admire them. Brilliant yellow roses, perfect against the stark backdrop of the gravestone that Robert E had lovingly made. Preston had wanted to have some fancy headstone sent from Boston but Rebecca had refused. Caroline would have been a Colorado Springs girl born and bred. It was only fitting that her headstone came from her hometown.

It had been four months since she had stood at this very spot and watched Caroline's coffin being lowered into the ground and yet, sometimes, it felt like only yesterday. Despite what she had told Preston, returning to Colorado Springs had not been as easy as she had assumed it would be. Stepping off the train on a brilliant July afternoon, she had felt an overwhelming sense of grief and sadness and it had taken every ounce of dignity she could muster not to break down on the platform. Returning to their home, left in somewhat of a grief-stricken hurry, had been difficult and heartbreaking, as the items she had purchased in preparation for her baby still lay where they had been left. Rather than discard them, however, she had merely boxed them up and put them in the attic hoping that, one day, she might have the courage to look at them again.

There had only been one truly awful day, when a cradle that Preston had ordered from Boston as a surprise had arrived on the train. Poor Horace hadn't really known what to do or say and she remembered standing staring at the box while he stammered beside her that if she didn't want it he could send it back. Perhaps it had only upset her more, but she had brought it back to the house, unpacked it and stared at it for what seemed like hours, before placing it with the rest. Preston never knew it had arrived and seemed to have forgotten that he had even ordered it.

Despite that, surprisingly, life had returned to a comfortable normality within weeks. Preston had relieved Mr Foster from his duties at the bank and the hotel and Rebecca had resumed working for Loren on a part-time basis, a job which she found took her mind off of what she had once anticipated she would be doing. If everything had gone to plan, Caroline would have been weeks old now, round, pink and chubby…healthy. But she knew that there was nothing she could do to change what had happened and she tried, every day, to move on.

She said a silent prayer and then turned and walked away from the graveyard, back through the meadow and across the bridge towards town. The autumn sun was high in the sky but there was a cool breeze which caused her to pull her shawl more tightly around her. The sudden rumbling in her stomach reminded her it was lunchtime and that she and Preston had agreed to meet and eat at Grace's. The clock on the bank wall read exactly twelve noon as she approached, just in time to see Myra coming out.

"Afternoon Rebecca," she greeted her, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Hello Myra, how are you?" Rebecca replied.

"Fine, fine. Keeping busy."

Rebecca noticed that she didn't mention Samantha in the comfortable way that she had before and found herself wishing that she would. "How's Samantha?"

Myra looked almost shocked that Rebecca had mentioned her, "Oh she's…she's fine, thank you."

"I hope my husband isn't working you too hard."

"No, I like it when it's busy," Myra explained, clearly grateful for the change of conversation. "It's better than when it's too quiet and there ain't much to do." She gestured behind her. "You going in to see Preston?"

"Yes, is he there?"

"Oh, he's there," Myra replied, "good luck tearing him away from his paperwork though."

Rebecca smiled and continued on, up the steps, and into the bank. It was deserted, save for Preston sat at his desk, his head low over his books, writing fervently. She turned the sign on the door, closed and locked it before making her way through the half-door towards him. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

He glanced up quickly, "Not at all. Just give me a moment to finish this."

Rebecca sat down in the chair opposite his desk and waited. A good two minutes passed and Preston gave no sign of completing his task. "Should I come back?" she asked.

"No, no."

"Preston…"

"There!" he said, finishing with a flourish and replacing his quill. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, darling."

"It's all right," she replied.

"There's just so much to be done," he gestured to the papers on his desk.

"You're in danger of working too hard," she told him. "I feel as though I've barely seen you for days." It was a harmless enough remark, but one laden with enough meaning to attract his attention. He had been spending many more hours than usual at the bank since their return home, more even than at the hotel, to the extent that he regularly was unable to dine at all with her and often arrived home only after she was in bed and too fatigued to even consider anything else.

"It's been a challenge getting things back in order," he replied, standing up and putting on his jacket. "Mr Foster wasn't quite as adept at things as I had hoped." She wondered if this was a brief veiled reference to her refusal to remain in Boston, but she quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

"I miss you," she said simply, standing up to face him and brushing imaginary fluff from his shoulder.

"I miss you too, but unfortunately things are difficult at the moment and my first priority has to be to the bank and its customers." He looked at her earnestly. "You do understand that, don't you?"

"Of course," she replied. "It's just…"

"It's just what?"

Rebecca paused. How did she begin a conversation based around the fact that they had not slept together since leaving Boston? Her successful persuasion of him to return home had led to an encounter that even all these months later made her blush to recall, but it had yet to be repeated. She had waited many nights for him to take her in his arms but he had never so much as initiated it and when she herself had tried, he had normally had an excuse. "You do still…want me…physically…don't you? I mean, after everything we said…and did…in Boston…"

Preston let out a short laugh, "Is that what all this is about? Darling, some wives would be grateful for the fact that their husband isn't demanding his conjugal rights every minute of every day. Are you telling me that you wish I were?"

"No, but…well…ever since we came back, you haven't exactly been as interested in claiming them as you were before we left Boston, and I merely wondered if there was something wrong."

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her gently to him, "If I allowed myself to think about you as much as I want to think about you, I would never get any work done. But I'm sorry if you feel I've been neglecting you in that respect." He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. "If you locked the door behind you…"

Rebecca laughed, embarrassed at her own stupidity. "Don't be silly! I wouldn't dream of asking you to…well to impulsively sweep all those papers off of your desk and ravish me on top of it…"

Preston paused for a fraction of a second. "Do you want me to…?"

Rebecca paused too, momentarily considering it. "No!" she said finally, pulling away from him and moving back towards the door. "I just thought you might like something to dwell on this afternoon." She unlocked the door and then held out her hand to him, "Shall we?"

They left the bank together, arm in arm, and made their way to Grace's. As Preston pulled out her chair for her, he pressed his lips to her ear and murmured, "All I can think about now is my desk…"

Rebecca laughed, but her smile slipped slightly as she caught sight of Michaela and Sully passing by in their wagon, the former with little Katie sat on her knee. As much as she would never wish what had happened to them on anyone, least of all her friends, it still hurt to see other women with healthy children and it seemed, at the moment, that they were everywhere. "I went to the grave today," she said.

"Which grave?" Preston asked.

"Caroline's."

"Oh…" Preston looked down at the tabletop, averting his eyes the way he always did whenever her name was mentioned. "How did it look?"

Rebecca fought for an appropriate word. Somehow adjectives like 'beautiful' always seemed wrong, "Tidy."

"That's good."

"I left some flowers there. I thought it would…brighten things up a little."

"That's a nice idea."

"You really should go sometime," she said carefully.

"I will," he said, taking her hand in his, "when I get time." Rebecca didn't press the point. She understood enough about grief to know that people dealt with it in different ways. Just because Preston didn't like visiting his daughter's grave, didn't mean that he didn't care. "You know…" he said slowly, "we should perhaps talk about …" he trailed off.

"Talk about what?" she asked.

"Well…whether or not we intend to have another child. Accidents can happen and…well…"

It was the eternal question, and one she had asked herself time and time again with no clear answer, but he had never raised it before now. She began to wonder suddenly if that was one of the reasons for his lack of interest. "Do you…do you want another child?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied, "on the one hand you managed well during your pregnancy and the birth posed no health problems for you as such but…"

"But?"

"But what happened before could happen again and…and I couldn't bear to see you go through what you went through. There were times, after, that I really thought I was in danger of losing you." She squeezed his hand tightly. "Not to mention the fact that carrying a child to full term…" he broke off momentarily as Grace arrived with their plates of food. "Carrying a child to full term, as we've always known, could be dangerous for you."

Rebecca stared at the meatloaf in front of her, her appetite suddenly gone. "I'm not sure I could handle it if…if the same thing were to happen again. Losing Caroline was…devastating and…and yet…I felt our child inside me. I felt her move, I felt her kick and my body was ready…"

"Well," he interrupted, "it's not as though we really have to make any decisions right now, is it? It's only been a few months after all."

"I'll be twenty-seven this winter," she reminded him, "hardly young to be a first-time mother."

"Look at Michaela," he reminded her. "She's not exactly a spring chicken either and she has a baby."

Rebecca snorted back a laugh, unsure whether to be more insulted for herself or for her friend. "Thank you darling," she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek, "I can always count on you to say just the right thing."

XXXX

The small, gold clock on his desk chimed the hour and Preston was surprised to see that it was ten o'clock. As he lifted his head, he felt pain in his neck, borne no doubt from hours of paperwork. He worked it from side to side and, glancing outside, saw that darkness had descended and the evening lamps had been lit. Getting up, he moved over to the window and pulled down the shade before retrieving his jacket from the coat stand and preparing to lock up for the night. As he did so, he glanced back at his desk, still covered in piles of paper that seemed to grow no smaller. He had lied to Rebecca earlier. James Foster had done an excellent job of keeping the bank going while he had been away, but the markets in New York were precarious at the moment and he had received several telegrams from his father and James concerned about the economic future of the country.

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind, locking them behind the sturdy door of the bank, before retrieving Thunder from the livery and heading out of town towards home. He rode slowly, in no great rush to get there either. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with Rebecca, nothing could be further from the truth, but there was a certain sadness in the house, that hung silently over them and had done since Caroline died. It sometimes felt as though the journey from home to work and back again was the only time that he was free of some worry or other.

The single light burning in the bedroom window indicated that Rebecca was already in bed. Preston quickly turned Thunder out into the field and made his way into the house. He noted with a smile the note left on the table indicating that if he was hungry, there was food still warm in the oven. He had no appetite, but the sentiment was appreciated. He hung his coat and hat on the peg and silently ascended the stairs, not wanting to wake her. The bedroom door was slightly ajar and, upon entering, he saw Rebecca lying on her stomach in the bed, her hair falling over her face, her breathing shallow and even. He moved over and crouched beside her head, pushing the locks away from her eyes and smiling at the squashed appearance of her face against the pillow. Then he quickly washed and undressed and climbed in beside her.

She shifted in sleep at his arrival, rolling onto her side and pushing her body back towards him, so that for a few minutes he lay pressed against her, one arm gently slung over her body. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but found his mind too active. There were too many problems, too many issues and no matter which way he lay, the gentle comfort of sleep refused to come. Eventually, after a good hour, he rose and made his way back downstairs to try and see if some tea would help. As he waited for the pot to boil, he picked at the pie that she had left for him and then re-stoked the fire before sitting down in the easy chair beside it and staring into the flames.

"Preston?" he jumped and turned in time to see her coming through the kitchen towards him, dressed only in her nightgown, a shawl pulled around her.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she replied, "but I woke up and you weren't there. I wasn't sure you had come home at all until I saw your clothes on the chair." She sat down opposite him. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," he replied, "I just…couldn't sleep. I thought this might help." He drained the last of the liquid and placed the cup on the table.

"Something's troubling you," she observed. "Is it work? The bank, the hotel…?"

"No, no," he reassured her, "it's nothing like that."

"Then, is it me? Is it because of what I said this afternoon about our relationship? I didn't mean to upset you…"

"You didn't," he replied hurriedly, "really, Rebecca, it's nothing."

When she spoke again, her voice was soft and soothing, almost as though she were comforting a child. "Talk to me."

He looked at her, the earnestness of her expression, the way the firelight danced against her face and thought for the millionth time how lucky he was to have her. "I don't want to burden you," he said.

"You burden me more when I know there's something wrong and you won't tell me."

He sighed heavily, "Things are not good at the moment. Financially I mean."

"For us?"

"For the whole country. The stock market is looking dangerous and…well…there could be financial repercussions."

"What sort of repercussions?"

"I don't know, no-one does. There's a lot of talk but…well no-one can really predict what might happen in the next few months. It's a worrying time for bankers in general. That's why I've been spending so many hours at the bank, why I've been so tired and…well…why I've neglected you."

"I'm sorry," Rebecca said, "I wish I hadn't said anything now. I feel terrible complaining about such things when you clearly have other things on your mind to worry about. Is there anything I can do to help at the bank?"

"No," he replied, "but I worry about you too."

"Well you have no need to."

"How can I not? After everything you've been through…"

"After everything _we've _been through," she reminded him. "I know that Caroline's death has been no easier for you than for me. I suppose people forget about the father when these sort of tragedies happen, but _I_ haven't."

"Father," he tried out the word ruefully. "Perhaps, all things considered, I shouldn't have made such a good father in any case."

Rebecca rose from her chair and came to kneel beside his, "You would have made a wonderful father, Preston. Of that I have absolutely no doubt." He leaned forward and cupped her face with his hand which she turned her mouth to and kissed gently. "Will you come back to bed now?" He paused, still unsure that he would be able to forget all the things that were playing on his mind. She got to her feet and towered above him, "Please?"

He looked up at her, his mind casting back over months of pain, back to before his illness, before their loss, back to when she had been round and full with his child, back to when it had been almost impossible for him not to touch her, back when there had been hope and excitement in every caress. He wanted that again, wanted to feel the warm glow that had encompassed him once he had put aside his fears over her health, wanted things to go back to how they been before the veil of sadness had been drawn over them. He wanted to make love to her, slowly and tenderly, delighting in every part of her…and he wanted another child, wanted it more than he had ever thought possible.

"Come here," he whispered gently.

"Come where?" she asked.

"Here," he reached out and took her hand, drawing her forwards towards the chair so that she stood between his legs and he could lean forward and press his cheek against her flattened stomach.

He felt her flinch slightly, "Preston…" Then he turned his face into her, breathing hot kisses through the fabric causing her stomach muscles to quiver. "What are you doing?" she asked, but instead of providing an answer, he merely sat back in the chair, pulling her further towards him so that she was forced to climb onto it with him, one knee resting either side of his waist.

"I'm reminding myself how beautiful you look," he replied softly, prising open the buttons on her nightgown and peeling back either side of the fabric to reveal her body. "And how good you taste," he continued, leaning forward to her chest and catching one eager bud in his mouth. He felt her shudder against him and knew instantly what she was thinking. Both times in Boston, the abortive attempt when his mother had walked in and after he had agreed to return to Colorado, had been heated affairs. The latter in particular had been to such an extent that neither of them had been sure they would reach the privacy of their bedroom in time. This would be the first time they had properly made love since before it had happened.

She let out a soft sigh, arching her body towards him, her hands straying to his head and her fingers threading through his hair, holding him to her as his tongue swirled around her nipple. With practiced precision, he slowly slid one hand down the length of her leg and back up again, his fingers brushing underneath the hem of her nightgown and reaching for the cotton panties she wore underneath.

Rebecca pulled back suddenly from him, her face flushed, her eyes bright in the amber light. "Not here," she whispered. "In our bed." Before he could respond, she had climbed off of the chair and stood, holding her hand out to him again. He got up quickly, took it in his and allowed her to lead him back upstairs to their bedroom. Once there, he watched as she peeled off her nightgown in front of him before sliding back into the bed. He followed suit, slipping in beside her, automatically positioning himself between her open thighs.

"I love you," he whispered, looking down at her, bending and catching her lip with his.

"I love you too," she replied softly. "And I think we should."

"Should what?" he asked, hardly daring to think that she might have been thinking along the same lines as he himself had.

"I think you know," she replied, sliding her arms up around his neck and pulling him down to her.

He responded without any further hesitation, kissing her waiting mouth as he gently pushed inside her and silencing her cry. With painstaking determination he kept his movements slow, his hips pushing into hers in an undulating rhythm. He ignored her whined protestations to speed up and when she clawed at him, determined to force him to thrust harder and faster, he gently took her wrists and pinned them down so that she was forced to simply accept it. As the end approached, he pushed himself slightly up and away from her so that he could look down and watch her pleasure. Her cheeks reddened, her breathing grew shallow and she turned her face to one side, closed her eyes and arched towards him with one final, animal-like cry as he felt himself fill her.

Afterwards, he lay with her in his arms, feeling warm and contended and as though he could finally sleep. "I still say…" he said drowsily, his lips against her hair, "that Preston A. Lodge IV is a good name."

He felt Rebecca laugh softly against him, "And I still say no."


	47. Chapter 47

**Hey guys, so so so so sorry it's been so long since I updated. Life just got very complicated over the last few months….but enough about me, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it. Regarding the Indians, no I'm not going to cover it. We're still in 1872 and I'm actually heading for May 1873 when Preston goes bankrupt and the repercussions of that which, of course, we never really saw on screen. So, sorry to disappoint anyone who was looking forward to Indians and more Sully, but you know where my loyalties lie! Please review as always! xxx**

**November 1872**

_"All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all." _

The hymn came to an end and the small congregation took their seats. Small due, in no small measure, to the recent snowfall which had left many housebound.

Preston turned to where Rebecca was sat next to him against the wall, her fur cape pulled tightly round her neck. She looked cold and he felt concerned. "Are you all right?" he whispered, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough to go unnoticed by the others.

"Fine," she replied, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

He held her gaze, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, grinning in response. She kept her hand in his as the Reverend launched into his sermon, but Rebecca found his words going straight over her head. All she could think about was the life she was convinced was growing inside her. The sickness the last few mornings had all but convinced her that it had to be true and she couldn't help the feeling of nervous excitement that grew with each passing minute. She hoped it was true, more than anything, especially given that Preston's family would be arriving for Christmas in only a few weeks and she wanted to be able to share good news with them.

She remembered that first feeling, as she had crouched over the chamber pot, emptying her stomach, Preston hovering in the door way asking if it was Grace's chicken and pondering why he himself, who had also eaten it, was not sick.

"I don't think it's the chicken," she had mumbled from her position on the floor.

It had taken time for her words to register with him. "Do you think…?"

"Perhaps," she had replied, getting to her feet and dabbing her face with a flannel. She had turned and seen the barely disguised hope in her husband's face, so different from the last time. "But let's not get our hopes up yet," she had cautioned.

"Of course, of course…" he had replied, though she had noticed an extra spring in his step that morning and every morning thereafter as she found herself in the same predicament.

"I think we should ask Michaela to examine you after the service," Preston said, his mouth close to her ear as the Reverend began to close the service.

"It's Sunday," Rebecca protested. "A day of rest?"

"She's a doctor," he insisted. "She has to expect to work out with normal hours."

"Let's leave it until tomorrow."

"I don't want to leave it until tomorrow. I want to know today!"

A woman seated in front of them, turned to glare at them. Rebecca smiled an apology. "Keep your voice down," she muttered.

"I have thought of little else for months," Preston said, more quietly, "as have you. If you are expecting then it's only right that we should know."

"Yes, and we'll know tomorrow."

"Rebecca…" Preston sighed in exasperation. Around them, the congregation were rising and he automatically offered her his arm to help her to her feet. "Why are you being stubborn about this?"

"I'm not being stubborn," she replied as they wound their way out into the aisle and joined the queue for the door. "I'm being respectful. Michaela has a hard enough job without us taking up her time on a Sunday merely to confirm our suspicions."

"I really don't see the problem," Preston insisted as they reached the door. "Wonderful service, Reverend, as always."

"Thank you Preston…Rebecca…" the Reverend shook their hands in turn.

"There's Michaela there," Preston continued, gesturing to where she was standing talking to Dorothy.

"Preston…" but her words fell on deaf ears as her husband was halfway down the snow-covered steps and over to Michaela before she could say anymore. Despite her protestations, she was secretly happy that he seemed so overjoyed at the prospect of another child compared to the cool reaction she had received when Caroline was conceived. As she slowly descended the steps after him, she hoped that this time there would be a happier outcome.

"…and I'm sure you can see why I _have _to insist that you examine her today."

"Rebecca!" Michaela greeted her warmly as she joined them. "Preston was just telling me that you feel you might have some happy news."

"Michaela, I'm so sorry," Rebecca said, putting her hand on Preston's arm. "I told him not to bother you with this today. I'm perfectly happy to wait until your clinic opens tomorrow."

"But I'm perfectly happy to examine you today," Michaela replied.

"There!" Preston declared triumphantly, "I told you!"

"I really wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"It's no trouble," Michaela said, stepping forward and linking her arm through Rebecca. "If it was me, I wouldn't want to wait to find out."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"Of course I'm sure. Come on, let's go now before your husband practically explodes!" With that, they made their way back towards town, Preston trailing in their wake.

XXXX

It felt like the longest wait of Preston's life. Relegated to waiting outside the clinic, he had paced up and down for a while, then smoked a number of cigarettes before beginning to watch a lone bird as it hopped around on the ground in front of him. He found himself watching it so intensely, that his eyes started to hurt. Just when he was beginning to think that something was wrong, the clinic door opened and Rebecca emerged, Michaela just behind her.

"Well?" he asked, getting to his feet.

She nodded, "Yes."

"That's wonderful!" he stepped forward and swept her up in his arms, turning her around before setting her down and kissing her. "I knew I was right to insist we found out today. Michaela," he turned to her and pumped her arm gratefully, "thank you so much."

"You're welcome," she laughed, "I'm glad you're so pleased."

"Pleased and delighted," he replied, turning back to Rebecca and kissing her again.

"Rebecca, if you come by tomorrow we can have a discussion about the best way to manage your care again," Michaela said. "I have some new herbs that Cloud Dancing gave me that I think you might find useful."

"I look forward to it," Rebecca replied, barely able to get the words out before Preston pulled her away. "You really are pleased, aren't you?" she said, as he wrapped his arm around her and steered her back in the direction of the church where they had left their surrey.

"Of course I'm pleased," he replied, "I couldn't be happier and this time, we're going to have a son!"

"A son? What makes you so sure?"

"I can just tell."

"Michaela says I'm only six weeks gone," she told him, "I think it's a little early to be making predictions."

"Well, you can apologise for your lack of faith in me when our healthy baby boy is born next summer. Preston A Lodge IV."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "I see you have no intention of giving up on that quest."

"None whatsoever," Preston replied, pulling her close to him. "And I do intend to wear you down, my darling."

"We'll see," she replied. As they approached the waiting surrey, she glanced over towards the graveyard nestled under the trees. "Perhaps we should tell Caroline."

Preston turned to her, "Caroline who?" She stared at him. "Oh yes, yes of course!" he flapped as realisation dawned. "Caroline, yes, yes indeed…" he looked at her. "You want to…to tell her?"

"Yes I do," Rebecca replied, "I think it's important." She saw his hesitation. "You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

"No, no," he replied hurriedly. "I am her…father after all." He gestured for her to lead the way and followed her down and through the fence over to where their daughter was buried.

Rebecca crouched down in front of the headstone and removed the dead flowers that lay beneath it. Gently, she brushed away the snow that covered the lettering. "Hello darling," she said softly. "I…we wanted to come and tell you that you're going to have a little brother or sister. We only found out today but…well we wanted you to be one of the first to know. And I'll bring them to see you once they're here." Tears pricked her eyes, "It doesn't mean that we don't still love you and that we don't miss you." She reached out and touched the stone again. "We wish you were here sweetheart."

Preston shifted uncomfortably behind her, wishing that she would hurry up. It wasn't that he didn't care about his daughter, but talking to a grave wasn't something he had ever done before, nor did he intend to start now. He had always managed to have something else to do every time Rebecca had paid a visit. He thought about Caroline sporadically, but he didn't need to actually be at her grave. An icy wind blew through the trees, causing him to shiver. "Rebecca," he reached down and touched her shoulder. "It's getting cold."

"Just another few minutes."

"You can come back when the weather's better," he persisted, putting his hand under her arm and gently, but insistently, getting her to her feet. "There's no point in us all catching our deaths out here."

Reluctantly, Rebecca turned and followed him out of the graveyard and back over towards the surrey. "I wish that she was here, Preston."

"I know you do, darling, so do I," he replied. "But you were so happy a moment ago. Don't let this spoil it." He pulled her to him. "By summer, we are going to have a healthy child and you are going to be a wonderful mother." He pulled back and kissed her. "Let's go home. I think I have some champagne somewhere and we really have to toast this moment." He helped her into the surrey, ensured that the rug was pulled warmly around her and then climbed in beside her. "This really is the most wonderful day."

"Yes," Rebecca agreed as they pulled away and she glanced back to see her daughter's grave grow smaller and smaller in the distance. "A wonderful day."

**Six weeks later**

"You could have waited at home," Preston said, turning to where Rebecca was seated, her coat pulled tightly around her. "You're liable to catch your death out here."

"Don't be silly," she replied good-naturedly. "It's fine. Besides, I want to be able to welcome your family properly this time."

"They wouldn't mind," he cajoled.

"Well _I _would," Rebecca said. "The last time they were here…well it wasn't exactly a joyous time, was it? I was prostrate in bed and you weren't much better. And then all that trouble in Boston…" She looked at him. "I'm fine, Preston, honestly."

"If you're sure," he said, sitting down next to her.

"I _am _sure," she insisted. "Stop fussing."

"How am I supposed to do that?" he looked at her. "You were up twice last night."

"It's normal," she said, wishing he would change the subject.

"I thought it was only supposed to happen in the morning," he persisted. "And you're twelve weeks gone so shouldn't you be over it by now anyway?"

"Preston!" she exclaimed, unable to contain it any longer. "Please, _please_ can we change the subject? There is nothing wrong with me. I'm fine and healthy and looking forward to spending Christmas with your family. Besides," she placed her hand on her stomach, seemingly huge with all the layers she was wearing, "I almost feel better when I feel ill. At least then I know that there's someone definitely in there."

"Horace!" Preston bellowed along the platform, causing her to jump. "How much later is this train going to be?"

"I don't know," Horace replied testily, "weren't my fault the tracks froze in Manitou."

Preston sighed heavily, "How the rail company can honestly believe that Horace is fit to be in charge…"

"Preston…" Rebecca warned.

"Father gets extremely irate when things don't run according to schedule."

"It's Christmas. He should be relaxed."

"Relaxed?" Preston stared at her. "Rebecca, how long have we known each other? Have you ever known my father to be _relaxed_?"

"I wish you would stop worrying about him," she sighed. "Every time you're due to see him, either here or in Boston, you get yourself all worked up over nothing. Everything is fine here, everything is fine in Boston and everyone is healthy. There is nothing to be concerned about."

Preston didn't reply, instead choosing to get to his feet and start pacing again. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her, but he bit it back. It was the last thing she would need to hear on top of everything else. But he was worried about the country-wide financial situation, as was his father judging by the telegrams that had passed between them. He knew that they would have to have a serious conversation about it all at some point over the festive season and he wasn't looking forward to it.

At that moment, the sound of a whistle blasted through the air and, from around the bend, the train appeared.

"Thank God!" Preston declared, smoothing down his jacket and moving over to help Rebecca to her feet. "I had visions of us still being here waiting on Christmas Day." The train rolled to a slow halt in front of them and the passengers began disembarking, many of them laden down with Christmas gifts. "Mother!"

"Oh, how well you both look!" Alice beamed as she stepped down from the train, embracing her son and then her daughter in law. "It's been far too long, Rebecca darling."

"Indeed it has," Rebecca replied, before turning to offer the same welcome to James and Louisa, followed finally by Preston Senior.

"You must have been perturbed by the delay, Father," Preston said, shaking his hand warmly.

"A mere trifle inconvenience," Preston Senior replied. "Nothing that I was prepared to let spoil Christmas with my family." He turned to Rebecca, "Lovely to see you again my dear."

"And you," she replied, embracing him. "We're pleased that you all made the trip."

"Well your letters have always said how wonderful Colorado Springs is at Christmas," Alice replied. "I can't wait to see it all for myself."

"I've arranged rooms for you at the hotel," Preston said, "only the best of course. And I have a surrey waiting to transport you there."

As they walked, Louisa linked her arm with Rebecca. "You look so much brighter now than you did in the summer," she observed. "Being home again has clearly done you the world of good."

"Yes it has," Rebecca replied, not wishing to share her news at that particular moment.

"And I would like to see Caroline's grave at some point," Louisa continued. "If you would allow me to."

Rebecca squeezed her arm. "I'd be honoured."

XXXX

The hotel was bustling that evening, one of the best trading nights they had had in months. Although he was a guest for dinner that evening, Preston couldn't help his eyes roaming over the dining room, eager to ensure that all guests were being treated well and had no complaints. Every so often, one would raise their hand in greeting and he would return the sentiment.

"Preston," Rebecca murmured quietly at one point, "James is talking to you."

"What?" he looked at her. "Oh, I'm sorry James, please forgive me."

"Not at all," his brother laughed, "it's good to see you in command of your own domain. Business seems to be doing well."

"It is," Preston replied, glancing at his father, "for now."

"Yes, that may change in the months to come, "Preston Senior said. "If things don't change…"

"What things?" Rebecca asked.

"Father, perhaps we shouldn't talk business when you've only just all arrived," Preston interrupted.

"Perhaps you're right, son," his father conceded. "It would be nice to discuss some good news for once."

"Well, we do, in fact, have some good news to share with you all," Preston said, rising to his feet and reaching for Rebecca's hand.

"What is it?" Alice asked.

"Well…Rebecca is expecting again."

A collective gasp of excitement went up around the table. "That's wonderful news!" Alice exclaimed. "Oh Rebecca, I'm so happy for you. For both of you!" She rose to her feet and hurried to hug her daughter-in-law before kissing Preston who was shaking hands warmly with his father.

"Thank you," Rebecca replied, "we're…quietly delighted." She glanced at Preston who was busy being congratulated by James.

"Congratulations," her attention was diverted by Louisa who was still seated across the table from her. Her face was arranged into a genuine smile, but there was a look in her eyes that screamed hurt and jealousy. "I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied quietly, hoping that everyone would resume their seats and they could talk about something else. As pleased as she was for herself, she remembered all too well that night in Denver prior to her wedding when Louisa had announced her own pregnancy and how hurt and jealous she had felt at the time. "Preston…" she tugged on his sleeve, willing him to sit down.

"Oh yes, of course," he took her meaning and returned to his seat.

"When are you due?" Louisa asked.

"June," Rebecca replied.

"Well," Alice raised her glass. "Here's to a happy outcome."

The conversation quickly changed onto other topics, but Rebecca couldn't help but see how Louisa withdrew from the conversation and how pale her face had become. She felt torn. Happy within herself and yet, full of pity for a most deserving sister in law.

As they made their way out of the dining room once dinner was over, Rebecca took her sister-in-law's arm and pulled her slightly back. "I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't apologise," Louisa interrupted her, "You have no need to Rebecca, I really am very happy for you both. After everything you've been through you deserve to be happy. And I hope you have a trouble-free pregnancy and have a beautifully healthy baby at the end of it all." She smiled, but Rebecca could see tears hovering in her eyes.

"And you…?" she started. "Have you…I mean…?"

"No," Louisa shook her head. "James and I haven't been blessed with a second chance. That's why I want the very best for you with yours."

"Thank you," Rebecca said, hugging her.

"Rebecca!" Preston called her name as they broke apart. "Do you two ladies intend to spend the evening out on the veranda?"

"We're coming," Rebecca replied. She linked her arm with Louisa and they walked over to where their respective husbands were waiting.


End file.
